Entwined
by Metal-Panda-Alex
Summary: After an impossible encounter, two young women find their lives destined to entwine. This is the tale of Hermione Granger and Fleur Delacour, and how they fell in love. Hermione/Fleur femslash.
1. Starcrossed

**Harry Potter and all related characters and places are owned by JK Rowling - I just make them dance for my own amusement.**

**~xxx~  
**

A cool breeze blew against the skin of First Year student Hermione Granger. She sniffed and rubbed her reddened nose, squinting through swollen eyes into the night sky. The stars were particularly prominent that night, and for a moment she found herself forgetting her reason for being out there entirely. She had been called names by a group of Slytherin girls. That, coupled with a few stupid remarks from Ron, had caused her to burst into tears and run from the castle. As far as her friends knew, she was hiding in a bathroom or some other secret place. Instead, she was making her way across the grounds, her route completely improvised and unknown.

She ran a hand through her bushy hair, and found her fingers caught in several knots. She let out another sob and let her arm fall to her side. At this point, all she wanted was to be away from the castle and her so-called 'friends'. As she continued to stare skywards, she found herself nearly tripping over something. A tree root was jutting out from the grass. Pausing, the young girl took a moment to observe her surroundings. She was further from the castle than she had realised; the lake was a short walk away, and the lights of Hogwarts seemed fairly distant. Struggling to her feet, she decided that perhaps it would be sensible to return before she got lost. However, as she was dusting her robes off, she heard something.

Someone was laughing.

She stopped dead, eyes darting around to find the source of the noise. To her left and up a small hill was a large bush, easily big enough to conceal a person from view. Curiosity taking over, she crept forwards, careful to keep herself low to the ground. She considered lighting her wand – a skill she had been told would only be taught in the Second Year – but decided against it; that would simply alert whoever was nearby, if they hadn't already seen her. She continued up the hill, moving closer to the bush as she went. She heard another laugh; there was definitely someone on the other side of the foliage. Drawing her cloak tighter around herself to prevent it snagging on something, Hermione crouched next to the branches, hoping to spot whoever was there through them. She could make out some of the lights from Hogwarts through the dense leaves, and after a few moments a few more seemed to appear; clearly someone was standing there, but in the complete darkness she could only make out their vague silhouette against the castle lights.

As if answering her, the almost full moon poked out from behind a cloud. It didn't provide much light, but it was enough to give the stranger a more defined edge. Ducking her head slightly to get a better look, Hermione saw that the person wasn't alone. Another figure was standing beside them, previously invisible due to their lack of movement. The two were clearly wearing robes. Were they students? Judging by their height, they had to at least be in the upper years. One was slightly taller than the other, and had their hair in a ponytail. Hermione assumed that particular person was female, but the other stranger's cloak was billowing too much in the breeze to give an indication of their build. She paused, straining her ears to hear what was being said.

"-said he was visiting his parents' house," the shorter figure said. The voice was definitely female, and judging by the tone she was indeed a fair few years older than Hermione.

"Did Ginny go wiz 'im?" the other replied. The speaker was definitely not English. Hermione wasn't sure, but to her the accent sounded French.

"I don't think he would have been able to do it without her," the first woman said. "I can't imagine what it must be like…"

"Zen do not, ma chéri," the French woman moved closer and placed an arm around the shoulders of the other. "Do not let it spoil zis wonderful evening."

"Sorry," the other woman replied with a small laugh. "I always seem to ruin the mood, don't I?"

"It is difficult to ruin a mood as nice as zis, afterall-"

A twig snapped.

Hermione mentally cursed herself. She had been shuffling forwards to hear better, and had ended up leaning upon a fallen branch. The two figures turned, the taller removing her arm from the other's shoulder.

"You said no one would be 'ere,"

"There shouldn't be…" the other replied. "_Lumos."_ The woman's wand illuminated the area, and Hermione was finally able to see their faces. The shorter woman had a thick mane of bushy hair, not dissimilar to her own, while the taller was blonde. With the harsh shadows caused by the spell's light, she couldn't make out the brunette's eyes, but the Frenchwoman's were clearly visible; piercingly blue.

"Per'aps it was just an animal," the blonde woman suggested, but the other shook her head, taking a couple of steps towards the bush.

"No, I don't think so…" she said quietly. Hermione's breath quickened; if she made a run for it, she would surely be seen anyway. She didn't know who these two were, but students or not, they surely wouldn't take kindly to being found in the grounds at nearly midnight. Steeling herself, she slowly got to her feet, stepping into the stranger's wandlight. The brunette lowered it slightly, reducing the glare from the spell.

"Oh…" was all she said upon seeing the young witch. "Oh dear…"

"You are a long way from ze castle," the Frenchwoman said, moving to her companion's side.

"So are you," Hermione replied before she could stop herself. The witch with her wand raised gave a small smile.

"You shouldn't be here, Hermione Granger," she said, an amused expression upon her face.

"'Ermione…?"

"How do you know my name?" she asked, growing more and more confused by these two women.

"'Ermione, do you mean to say zat zis is…" the blonde trailed off. The other woman nodded.

"That's right, Fleur," she said. "This is me."

Hermione took a step backwards. "What…what do you mean?" she stammered. Without words, the older witch reached into her collar with her free hand, and withdrew a small gold object hanging from a chain. "Is that…is that a Time Turner?" The owner nodded. "But…Time Turners are tightly controlled by the Ministry of Magic," Hermione protested. "You need written permission to use one."

"Which we have," the older woman explained. "At least for tonight."

"Suppose I believe you're telling the truth," Hermione began. "Why come back here? Why now?"

"There is nothing special about this night in particular," she replied. "Simply this year in general…" She glanced over her shoulder at the castle. "This year was so wonderful…"

"Well then you can't be me," Hermione decided. "So far the people here have been rotten to me."

The Frenchwoman giggled. "Mon dieu, you were so adorable, ma chéri," she said, shooting the other woman a playful smile.

"It won't always be so bad," the other woman said, still looking at Hermione.

"Alright...so at some point I will use a Time Turner to travel back to my oh-so-wonderful first year," Hermione said. "And just how exactly do you intend to get back to where you should be? I assume you don't plan on waiting it out?"

"Wiz zis," the French woman reached into her own collar, and withdrew an identical device, silver in colour. "It works exactly ze same way, only ze ozer way around. Zere were even tighter rules surrounding zese versions."

"But where you come from, they just allow you to travel back and forth through time?"

"No, not at all," the brunette explained. "We were simply given permission for this one visit."

"Okay…" Hermione looked away for a moment, gathering her thoughts. "Just how far in my future are you from?"

"About nine years," she replied.

"So…I assume the Ginny you talked about was Ronald's sister?" she asked.

"That's right. She's going to become one of your closest friends when she comes to Hogwarts."

"And her?" She gestured at the French woman. "I didn't know Hogwarts had any foreign students."

"I am not from 'Ogwarts," she answered, almost proudly.

"You will meet Fleur just before your Third Year," the older witch explained. "And…" She smiled. "You will fall in love."

"_What_?"

"Don't you zink you are giving away 'alf the fun?" the French witch asked, but the other woman just continued smiling.

"It doesn't matter, Fleur," she said. "You see…I don't remember a single moment of this encounter, which means-"

"You're going to wipe my memory," Hermione finished, matter-of-factly.

"Well if I don't, what is to stop you running over to Fleur the first time you meet and simply telling her you are 'meant to be'?" the older woman said, chuckling to herself. "As fun as that would be, that is not the way things are meant to go." Her expression became slightly more serious. "And if I remember correctly, even at this point you have read about what can happen to people when they are told their own futures."

"In rare cases they can go mad, knowing that they are destined to live out a series of events over which they have no control," Hermione recited.

"Exactly. Now while I doubt you…I…would go mad, it would be better to not run that risk," the brunette said. "Besides, learning that you are destined to fall in love with another woman is not the sort of information you should really impart to an eleven year old girl."

"_Twelve_," the younger witch said flatly. "It was my birthday last month."

"Ah...so it is October," the French woman said, giving her companion a sideways look. "I was right."

"You realise you are going to have to render me unconscious as well," Hermione said. "Even if you erase my memories of meeting you, I'll see you straight away – and you can't Disapparate from the Hogwarts grounds."

"I hadn't thought of that," the older witch said. Hermione raised an eyebrow.

"I hope that is not a sign of things to come…" she mused. The French woman chuckled.

"Oh, I _like_ 'er," she said with a smile.

"Oh be quiet, _dear_, or I'll leave you behind," the brunette said with a playful smirk. "Anyway, I believe we should indeed be on our way."

"Oui," the French woman said. "Just give me a moment." She knelt in front of Hermione, those piercing blue eyes sparkling in the wandlight. "I just want you to know, zat right now, across ze sea, zere is a young French girl who dreams of finding 'er Prince." She smiled. "Or indeed, 'er Princess. When she sees you for ze first time, she will know zat you are ze one; 'er only true love. She will 'ide it at first, as will you. But wiz 'er, you will create a love so powerful 'zat _noz'ing_ can break it."

"Fleur, she isn't going to remember any of that…"

"I know, I just….I just wanted to say…."

"I understand."

The light went out.

"_Obliviate."_


	2. First Meeting

**Harry Potter and all related characters and places are owned by JK Rowling - I just make them dance for my own amusement.**

**I am absolutely staggered at just how many reviews the first chapter got! You guys are awesome; you really motivated me to continue with this. Keep your thoughts coming!  
**

**~xxx~**

"_When she sees you for ze first time, she will know zat you are ze one; 'er only true love. She will 'ide it at first, as will you. But wiz 'er, you will create a love so powerful 'zat noz'ing can break it."_

Hermione opened her eyes lazily. A gentle breeze caressed her cheek, the curtains fluttering quietly. She had heard that voice again. Ever since arriving in France; hearing the accents; she had had a bizarre series of dreams. Every time it was different, but eventually everything would turn dark, and a voice would whisper to her. She could never remember just what was said, but she remembered the voice.

However, being the logical person that she was, she brushed it off as nothing. She sat up, combing her tangled mane of hair aside with her fingers. Her parents had planned to visit a classic car museum that day; Hermione had been vaguely interested, but decided it would be a good opportunity to study her new books in peace. Rather than wait until shortly before the Journey to Hogwarts, she had convinced her parents to let her purchase her supplies before their holiday, so she could become acquainted with the syllabus of her Third Year. And so when she cleared the sleep from her eyes, she was greeted with the sight of her books, neatly stacked upon the desk opposite her bed. She had to wonder what the hotel staff would think if they saw some of the titles when they came to clean the room, but then she reminded herself that they would be unlikely to understand the English titles, and even if they could they would probably just assume they were children's books of some sort.

Stretching, she swung her legs over the side of the bed and got to her feet. Beside the books was a note, clearly written by her mother.

'_Hermione,_

_Gone to museum. Will be out until 4.00pm. Don't leave the hotel. Call room service if you get hungry._

_love, Mum'_

Hermione smiled. Despite having talked about it only the previous evening, her over-protective parents still thought she might forget. Still, she wasn't even fourteen years of age yet; had she been anyone else, her parents most likely wouldn't have even offered her the opportunity to stay behind; but even they weren't blind to Hermione's maturity. Moving the note to one side, she took the first book from the pile, The Standard Book of Spells – Grade Three. She had already had a chance to flick through the tome, but had only properly read the first few chapters. Organised as ever, she decided to start making basic notes, if only to help memorise the contents. She moved over to the chair beside her bed, upon which her rucksack sat. As she passed the mirror, she remembered that it would probably be practical to get dressed before starting any work.

Ten minutes later, she had changed from her pyjamas and had managed to get her hair at least partially under control. Satisfied, she pulled the chair over to the desk, and opened the book, placing a sheet of paper beside it. Even though this was her second Summer holiday after a year at Hogwarts, she still found adjusting to some muggle customs rather bizarre, especially considering how used to them she was beforehand. Regardless; parchment or paper, it didn't stop her from her pursuit of knowledge. She ran a finger down the page, stopping at a Binding Jinx. Not taking her eyes off the page, she instinctively reached for her quill. Grasping only air, she mentally slapped herself; she was falling back into her Hogwarts habits far too easily.

Getting to her feet again, she scanned the various surfaces in the room for a pen. Not finding one, she moved through the door into the main room, within which was the bed being used by her parents. Again, her search was fruitless. Mildly annoyed that she had been stopped before she had begun by such a simply thing, she considered using her wand to gain a means of writing, but quickly reminded herself that that was a bad idea.

"Honestly, Granger, you'd never know you were muggle-born," she muttered to herself, almost embarrassed by her difficulty adjusting to muggle life again. She flopped down upon her parents' bed, pondering what to do. There was a television in the room; but all the content would be French. Even the free magazines in the lobby would be useless. Regretting her decision to stay behind, she allowed herself to fall back completely, staring up at the ceiling.

"My kingdom for a pen…" she sighed. After several minutes, an idea struck her. The hotel was in the middle of a small rural village; surely there was at least one shop that sold something as simple as a pen. In fact, she probably wouldn't even lose sight of the hotel, so it couldn't be that wrong, could it? Her parents had told her to stay, but she knew as well as they did that she was mature beyond her years; she carried herself with the confidence of a Seventh Year.

She checked her watch, and despite having slept in quite late, she still had a good few hours before her parents were due to return. Her mind made up, she grabbed her purse from her room, pulled her shoes on, and not forgetting her key to the room, left.

**~xxx~**

The heat of the midday sun struck Hermione as though she had walked into a wall. The sudden increase in temperature as she stepped out of the cool lobby of the rustic building caused her to pause for a moment, undoing the top button her shirt. The hotel was situated at the top of a hill, and the town was built around the cobbled street that lead down from Hermione's present spot. Smiling, she set off down the hill.

She had considered asking the hotel staff for what she needed, but being a relatively small, family-run business, there hadn't even been anyone at the front desk when she had left. Hermione supposed she could have found them, but part of her was so desperate to get out of the place that she decided against it.

There was a steady flow of people moving about the town. It wasn't busy, but neither was it quiet. Hermione settled on the word 'bustling' as she continued on her way, watching the people going about their business. Careful to make sure she didn't lose sight of the hotel, if only to please her idea of doing as her parents told her, she stepped up onto the pavement on the left side of the street. She passed a boulangerie, and then a second-hand clothes shop. Everything there had a handmade, classical feeling to it. Ornaments, furniture, clothing; she wouldn't have been surprised if all of it was made in the town by the people selling them. She kept her eye out for a general goods shop, or perhaps one of those small versions of a larger chain supermarket.

What she ended up finding was a lot better, in fact. A few more buildings down, was what appeared to be an arts and crafts shop. She smiled; they _had_ to have pens; they probably even had muggle-made quills. She stepped through the wooden door, and found her lungs assaulted with the smell of paint. It wasn't surprising; in addition to the paint sets and the like that were on sale, there were several easels set up, each with a drying painting upon it.

"Bonjour," the elderly man behind the counter said, looking up. Hermione responded in kind; she had been taken aback by the general courtesy she had witnessed so far on her holiday.

Hermione began to browse the racks and shelves, deciding she may as well have a good look while she was there. She had no artistic leanings herself, but there was something inherently interesting about the various products on display. She smiled at the sight of the small dummies on metal rods; they had scared her to death when she was younger. She rounded a corner, and found what she was looking for. Being an art shop, it was decidedly difficult to find a single black pen, rather than an entire set of colours or some other multipack. She took one from the rack, and continued on her way. Just as she began looking at the wide variety of paintbrushes, she heard a voice from around the next corner.

"Gabrielle, remettre cela!" She rounded the corner, and found herself bumping into a young blonde girl, no older than five, clutching a rather large paintbrush. "Gabrielle!" Hermione looked up, to find the speaker walking towards her. Another blonde girl, likely a few years older than Hermione, with startlingly blue eyes and an elegant face, stopped just behind the girl with the brush. "Gabrielle, dire désolé." Rather than apologising as instructed, she simply stared up at Hermione with her own blue eyes, almost as if she were waiting for an attack. The older girl shook her head. "Vous devez pardonner ma petite soeur," she said. Hermione just stood there nervously for a moment.

"Umm…" she began, racking her brains and willing her limited grasp of French into action. "Il n'a pas-"

"Oh!" the blonde girl interrupted, smiling. "You are English." Hermione nodded. Was her accent really that bad? "I am sorry about my sister," she continued. "'Er mind wanders all ze time…"

"It's no trouble," Hermione replied. "I'm sure she didn't mean to."

"Non, she did _not_," the older girl snapped, glaring at the back of her sister's head. Hermione couldn't help but smile; clearly events like these were a common occurrence, judging by the girl's exasperated demeanour. She looked back up at Hermione. "You are on 'oliday?"

"That's right," Hermione answered. "For two weeks."

"And 'ow are you liking it so far?" She almost felt like she was being interrogated.

"It's…nice," she said, immediately regretting answering with something so simple. "It really is a beautiful country, particularly this area."

"Oui," the girl replied with a nod. "I am on 'oliday myself; my parents own a…'ow do you say…summer'ouse?" Hermione nodded. "We come 'ere every year, to be by ze sea."

"That sounds lovely," Hermione said. "We're just in that old hotel up the road."

"Ah, I know ze place," the girl replied. "Wiz ze funny old lady at ze front desk?"

Hermione laughed and nodded. "That's the one," she said. "I mentioned to my parents, but they didn't seem to think there was anything odd about her."

"Elle est ridicule!" the blonde said with a grin. "We see 'er talking to ze animals around ze town, and she even leaves gaps for zem to respond! Can you imagine? Talking animals?"

"Sounds positively mad," Hermione responded, her smile flickering slightly. She hadn't noticed until that point, but she had been subconsciously hoping this girl was a witch as well; she was already warming to her.

"Anyway, we should let you get back to your shopping," she said. "What are you 'ere for?"

"Oh…" Hermione's face reddened, slightly embarrassed; this girl was probably an amazing artist that could name every single piece of equipment that surround them. "Just this…" she held up the pen, smiling lamely. "You?"

"Noz'ing that exciting," the French girl replied. She held up a box of oil paints. "Maman insists I focus on somez'ing artistic over ze Summer." She sighed. "I 'ave so much schoolwork, but my parents don't like me locking myself away for ze entire day to work."

"I know how that feels," Hermione replied, nodding. "My parents left me behind today so I could focus on my work."

"Oh?" she seemed genuinely surprised. "But you are so young! Surely you are more interested in 'aving fun!"

"Ha…" Hermione looked away shyly. "Actually I'm quite the bookworm, at least that's what my friends call me…"

"Je suis désolé …'bookworm'?" she repeated, an eyebrow raised.

"Sorry," Hermione replied with a smile. "I mean I spend a lot of my time reading; I'm indoors a lot more than I am outside."

"Oh, we cannot 'ave that!" the French girl stated firmly. "'Ow old are you?"

"Thirteen," Hermione responded. "Fourteen in September."

"Mon dieu, I would 'ave said you were at least fifteen," the girl said. "You look too mature."

"Really?" Hermione had never cared for rigidly maintaining her appearance, but to receive a compliment on it wasn't entirely unpleasant.

"Well regardless, I am going to make sure ze rest of your 'oliday is fun," she said defiantly. Hermione raised an eyebrow.

"I thought you said you had so much schoolwork?" she asked, a small smile tugging at her lips.

"Forget about zat," the girl replied, waving a hand dismissively. "I cannot bare to see such a lovely girl cooped up studying for 'ours, when zere is so much to do 'ere!"

Hermione considered for a moment, before shrugging and nodding. "Alright then," she said. Part of her was telling her to be nervous around this stranger, but she already felt as though the blonde girl was a friend. Witch or not, it couldn't hurt to have someone to spend time with other than her parents.

"Excellent!" The blonde held out her free hand, a large grin upon her face. "Fleur Delacour."

"Hermione Granger." She shook the other girl's hand, noting just how smooth Fleur's palm felt in comparison to her own usually ink-stained one.

The entire time they had been talking, the younger Delacour had been looking more and more irritated that she couldn't understand a word of the conversation going on above her. She just huffed and clutched the brush tighter, glaring up at the other girls' entwined hands.


	3. Such Sweet Sorrow

**Harry Potter and all related characters and places are owned by JK Rowling - I just make them dance for my own amusement.**

**Only two chapters...and over 50 reviews. You. Are. Awesome. Anyone who ends up rereading earlier chapters for whatever reason will also notice that I've altered Hermione's age. I didn't think about the implications of when her birthday is, so she's actually 14 during Book 3. If you spot any errors in this or future chapters, don't hesitate to tell me and I'll fix it as soon as I can.**

**~xxx~**

A week later, Hermione had decided that without a doubt, taking Fleur up on her offer of company during the holiday had been a good decision. She had never met someone that made her feel so at ease; in the older girl's presence she felt no expectation, no standards to live up to. Even with Harry and Ron, she found herself subconsciously trying to behave as she was expected to. Whether it was something about Fleur in particular, or it was simply because they had never met before, the brunette had never felt so comfortable around someone. And Fleur, for her part, seemed to feel the same.

On their first full day in each other's company, she had explained all about her family. The Delacours were a wealthy family of some repute, and as Fleur had recounted with a small amount of resentment, had very high standards. She had been quick to point out that her parents were very loving, but at the same time they cared a great deal about their family's prestige. Fleur attended a high-class boarding school, at which she stayed for the whole school year. Perhaps that was why they got on so well; their situations were very similar. Both were academically able, both spent the entire school year away from their families, who both had high expectations of their daughters. Hermione had ended up simply replying that she also attended a boarding school, having fun telling Fleur as much as she could about her school life, while leaving the obvious factor – magic – out of her retelling. The French girl had listened intently, seemingly fascinated by Hermione's tales; though she had seemed a little put off when she had mentioned just how cold it was where she lived. They had spent almost every day of the past week together.

It all went too fast for Hermione's liking. She had been worried that her desire to spend time with the young Frenchwoman had simply been to loneliness, but the blonde was definitely not a substitute for Harry or Ron – she shared very few traits with them. And yet still Hermione found her to be great company; she was witty, intelligent, and above all – she listened. Hermione had taken to restraining herself from launching into her rather long-winded explanations of things, but Fleur seemed to encourage it. Obviously, Hermione was unable to talk of anything magical, but despite that, she still felt incredibly comfortable around the older girl. Puzzlingly so.

They had spent their time doing a variety of activities. The day they first met, Fleur had taken Hermione on a tour of sorts; showing her the various sights around the town. Hermione had of course seen them before, but to have them explained by someone who knew the place well was a lot more interesting. After that, the younger girl had returned to the hotel, Fleur's promise of a whole day together the next day ringing in her ears. She had returned only ten minutes before her parents, and despite considering telling them about her meeting with Fleur, she decided that it couldn't hurt to keep it secret – she was mature enough not to get herself involved in anything dangerous. The next day, Fleur had been waiting for her outside the hotel, this time without her little sister in tow. She took Hermione down to the sea, and they spent most of the day walking up and down the coastline; it was here that Hermione had regaled the other girl with tales of her school friends, and Fleur did the same.

Since then, most of their days had been spent visiting various places within walking distance of the town. Fleur never insisted on asking for anything in return for her time, nor did she seem to mind what Hermione talked about on their days out. She just smiled. Hermione was used to people smiling and nodding during her ramblings, but Fleur had proven often that she was indeed listening, and interested. By the end of the week, the brunette felt as though she had known Fleur as long as she had known her friends from Hogwarts. It was a bizarre feeling; becoming comfortable around someone so quickly, and especially considering Hermione's usually reserved nature.

She sighed, flicking several stray hairs from her face. She was sat upon a rough stone wall, overlooking the beach. The sun was low in the sky, it's golden light glittering across the calm water. The sand below was deserted, all of the tourists having since departed. Hermione turned to the side, and saw Fleur return, an ice-cream in each hand. Hermione took hers with a smile.

"Merci," she said, earning a grin from the other girl. Whenever she spoke French, no matter how simple, Fleur's eyes lit up with glee.

Hermione was sure there was some sort of metaphor to be found in their choices of flavour; vanilla for her, toffee with chocolate chunks for Fleur. She turned back to the sunset as she started on her own. Her parents had given her special permission to stay out later that night, as they were leaving the next morning. She had never expected to be feeling so down about going home; she had pictured herself desperate to return the Britain, and to Hogwarts. But now she felt nothing but sorrow for the fact that she would be leaving this wonderful new friend, most likely to never see her again.

"C'est beau…" Fleur murmured, swinging her legs over the wall and sitting beside the other girl, joining her in watching the water.

"It is," Hermione agreed. "You have a wonderful country, Fleur."

"Oui, I know," she replied with a smirk, earning a playful shove from Hermione. "I would like to visit your own someday…"

"Oh I doubt you'd want to," Hermione answered. "When it's warm, it's too hot to do anything, and when it's not, it's grey and rainy."

"Per'aps I would travel zere to see ze people," Fleur replied, turning to the other girl. "I 'ear you British can be raz'er eccentric."

"Most of us act miserable all the time," the younger girl said with a smile. "Everyone looks so down."

"Zen…" Fleur cocked her head, smiling still. "I would come simply to visit you."

Hermione looked up. "Really?"

"'Ermione, zis Summer has been ze best I can remember," Fleur said. "I 'ave never 'ad such a good friend."

"You mean that?" Hermione ignored the trickle of melting ice-cream running onto her finger.

"At school, everyz'ing is about popularity, and 'oo looks ze best," she explained. "If you were to meet me as I am at school, you would probably 'ate me."

"I could never hate you, Fleur," the brunette said, her smile fading.

"Remember I told you about being ze most popular girl zere?" Fleur continued. "It is not as fun as it sounds. Everyone fauns over me, and follows me around. If I do somez'ing, zey try to copy me." She sighed. "I try to put zem off, but it never works."

"I suppose I know how that feels," Hermione replied. "Being isolated like that…"

"'Ow so?"

"I don't know about your school, but at mine, those who exceed in the work are often mocked," she explained. "Maybe they find intelligence intimidating…"

"I would disagree," Fleur replied quickly. "I find intelligence to be a raz'er attractive trait."

"Really?" Hermione didn't notice the slight tinge creeping across her cheeks.

"Oui," the Frenchwoman continued, not even looking away from her ice-cream. "It is all well and good 'aving ze looks and all zat, but if zere is noz'ing under zat pretty little 'ead, what is ze point?"

"If only everyone thought that way," Hermione said, smiling again.

"Unfortunately, many of my fellows believe I myself am…what was zat word…empty'eaded," Fleur sighed. "I 'ave very few friends zat know how 'ard I work. Most seem to zink I get my grades simply by fluttering my eyelashes."

"That's horrible," the bushy haired girl said, frowning.

"Do not worry, mon ami," Fleur smiled. "I am used to it by now. Besides, why concern myself when I 'ave you?"

"Fleur…" Hermione bit back a sob at the other girl's words. "Oh Fleur, you know I'm leaving tomorrow."

"Oui," was the simple response. Fleur turned back to her ice-cream, her smile never faltering. "But you 'ave not left yet." Hermione's expression was conflicted. She had never been offered such kindness from someone like this, and the feeling was quite a bizarre one. "You are an amazing girl, 'Ermione," Fleur continued. "Anyone who says oz'erwise is a fool." She looked back at her friend, seemingly broken from some deep reverie. "Oh! I 'ave somez'ing for you..."

Hiding is as best as she could, Hermione was on the verge of tears. Fleur had said all those things, and now she was giving her something? She looked up the French girl in amazement, trying her hardest to maintain her smile. She watched as Fleur reached into her bag. She held out her hand to Hermione, and slowly turned it over. Upon her palm sat a silver pocket watch, it's chain unravelling as Fleur parted her fingers. Slowly, and with an encouraging smile from Fleur, the brunette took the watch and examined it. The outside was engraved with the impression of an old sailing ship, complete with little waves.

"Fleur…I don't know what to say…"

"It was my grandfaz'er's," she explained, smiling at Hermione's reaction. She placed her empty ice-cream cone on the wall, deciding not to eat it. "'E gave it to me shortly before 'e died."

"I can't take it," Hermione replied quickly, making to pass it back. "I can't-"

"You can, and you will, mon ami," Fleur said firmly, using her own free hand to close Hermione's own around the watch. "'E gave it to me to do wiz as I wish, and I wish to give it to you."

"But…why?"

"Because I zink…I 'ope…zat by giving you somez'ing so important, you and I will never truly be parted…"

"Fleur…" Hermione's eyes were brimming with tears now. "I have nothing to give you…"

"You need not," Fleur said with a smile. "Knowing zat you 'ave zis is enough."

"Why can't you stop being so nice?" Hermione asked, finally letting a tear fall. "Why do you have to…"

"I do not 'ave to, but I want to," Fleur answered. "You are ze truest friend I have ever 'ad, and if we never meet again, at least I can be 'appy knowing zat you 'ave somez'ing to remember me by."

"Fleur, I…" Hermione placed her now empty ice-cream cone upon the wall to her side, alongside Fleur's. "I don't want you to forget me, either…"

And then she kissed her.

**~xxx~**

**Next chapter will take place during Book 3. Once we reach Book 4, things will stop jumping ahead and you'll get to see Hermione's whole Fourth Year.**


	4. But Not Forgotten

**Harry Potter and all related characters and places are owned by JK Rowling - I just make them dance for my own amusement.**

**This chapter is incredibly short - for two reasons. One, you got a chapter only yesterday too. Two, it's only a bit of filler - I thought jumping from pre-Third Year to Fourth Year would be a little odd, so here's a short little snippet for you.  
**

**~xxx~**

Ginny leant forward in her seat, mouth hanging open slightly; expectantly. Hermione regarded the redhead carefully for a moment, not sure how exactly to proceed. Their eyes were focussed on each other, never blinking. They remained that way for several moments, before Ginny finally spoke in a whisper.

"And then?"

Hermione flopped back in her armchair.

"I ran," she replied meekly. "What else could I do?"

The two girls were seated beside the fire in the Gryffindor Common Room, each curled up in a squashy armchair. Aside from them, the room was deserted, everyone else having gone to bed. There was no danger of anyone coming in late, not with the Dementors floating about the place. Hermione had seemed oddly distant since their return to Hogwarts; Harry and Ron had failed to notice, though with a deranged killer on the loose and likely after Harry, they couldn't entirely be blamed. Still, Ginny had noticed, and after several failed attempts at getting the brunette to explain what was wrong, the Second Year had finally got Hermione to talk about the Summer holidays.

"You ran away from her?" the redhead repeated. "Hermione Jean Granger that is the single most clichéd thing I have ever heard!"

"Well what else could I do?" Hermione replied hotly. "I _kissed_ her! What could I have said or done after that?"

"Well how did she react?" Ginny asked, leaning upon the chair arm.

"Oh I don't know," the bushy haired girl replied despondently, looking away and into the fire. "I don't think I even opened my eyes until I'd started running."

"So how do you know she didn't like it?" the younger witch pressed. "Maybe she would have kissed back."

"Come off it, Ginny," Hermione said. "She probably reacted the same way any 16 year old would if a 13 year old of their own gender kissed them; with disgust."

"How do you know she didn't feel the same though?"

"Now who's being clichéd?" the brunette countered. "You can't change someone's preferences just by kissing them."

"So…does this mean you're-" Hermione cut her off.

"I don't know," she replied quietly. "She's…she's the only person that's ever made me feel that way…I suppose I can't know what I am…" She sighed, and slowly got to her feet. Ginny watched as she made her way over to one of the tall, thin windows, overlooking the already snow-covered grounds. It was the middle of the night, but a few torches still burned around the school. "We were so alike…" she murmured. "She understood me…"

"I thought you said she was the most popular girl in her school?" Ginny said, before catching herself. "No offense."

Hermione gave a brief smile at the redhead's faux-pas. "True," she replied. "But the way we feel is the same…" She turned back to the other girl, however her eyes were more directed at the floor than anything else. "How many people in this school know my face?"

"Uhh…I suppose…..everyone?" Ginny answered, her brow furrowed. "What's your point?"

"How many of those people actually _know_ me?" the brunette continued. "To so many people I'm known as being clever, and a 'teacher's pet'…"

"I…don't really get where you're going with this," the younger girl said. "You make it sound like you have no friends."

"What?" Hermione looked up. "Oh, no, no I didn't mean that." She forced a smile. "What I mean is that we both knew what it was like to be judged by qualities other than our personalities; Fleur by her looks, and me by my brains."

"So…you're saying that while people were admiring her looks, they should have also been looking at how smart she was?"

"Yes."

"And…" Ginny smirked. "You're saying that while people know you for your cleverness, they should be admiring _your_ looks?"

"Ye- No! Ginny!"

But Hermione's mood had been broken; she was smiling again. The two girls laughed, and for the rest of the night their conversation covered much happier topics. Ginny of course promised not to tell a soul about what had been said. Hermione wasn't sure that telling someone else was a good idea; after all, if someone else knew, she wouldn't simply be able to pretend the events with Fleur had never happened. Still, having the chance to talk to someone about it all had made her feel much better, if only temporarily.

As the year went on, Hermione's mind quickly focussed on other things, not least the continued threat to Harry from Sirius Black. By January, she hadn't thought of Fleur more than a couple of times, and only fleetingly. Whatever she had felt for the French girl, she was positive that it had simply been a phase. A simple crush on a person she would never meet again.

That's what helped her sleep at night, at least, as Ginny put it.

**~xxx~**

**A person she'd never meet again? I think we all know that's not the case...  
**


	5. Remembrance

**Harry Potter and all related characters and places are owned by JK Rowling - I just make them dance for my own amusement.**

**This is the start of the 'true story.' I originally intended the fic to start during the Fourth Year, with the surprise being that they already knew each other, but I decided it would be more fun to show the events. From this point onwards, the story will progress at a slower pace - no more skipping ahead large amounts of time.**

**~xxx~**

Fifteen year-old Hermione Granger woke with a jolt. Her breathing was fast and shallow, as though she had just been running. She just lay there for a moment, staring up at the underside of her four-poster, her mouth hanging open. And the worst part; she couldn't at all remember what she had been dreaming about. All she knew is that it had been incredibly intense; a light sheen of sweat coated her brow. Slowly, she lifted herself into a sitting position, her expression still one of complete shock. She swallowed heavily, and attempted to calm her breathing, still at a loss to explain her frazzled state. She reached up to part the curtains around her bed, and found that even her hand was shaking. She gazed at it, totally perplexed.

Something bizarre was definitely going on.

**~xxx~**

However warm she had woken up, Hermione was positively freezing by that evening. She was already fed up; classes had been a waste of time, as almost everyone was talking non-stop about the arrival of the students from the other wizarding schools. Ron was being his usual self and had been reeling off possible ways they would be arriving, each of which Hermione had shot down with increasing annoyance. And to top it off, it was absolutely freezing. She drew her cloak tighter around herself, wanting nothing more than to curl up beside the fire and finish her Charms essay. She decided to ignore Ron's excited gibbering, and watched as Professor McGonagall continued to fret over the First Years, who seemed to be having difficulty understanding what a straight line looked like. Why this had to be done outside, Hermione couldn't fathom. She understood that these other two proud schools wanted to make an entrance, but would it really hurt for them to simply arrive in the Great Hall?

"What time is it?" Harry asked, his teeth chattering. Hermione pulled her eyes away from McGonagall rounding on Parvati Patil, and pulled out her pocket watch.

"Nearly Six," she replied, sliding the watch back into her robes. "I wish they would hurry up," she muttered.

"Remember what Mr Weasley said?" Harry said with an attempt at a smile. "Can't resist showing off."

"If they could just do it indoors, they can show off as much as they want," Hermione retorted, tightening her cloak around herself.

"Aha!" Dumbledore's call floated over from behind the students. "Unless I am very much mistaken, the delegation from Beauxbatons approaches!" A flurry of shouts from the students followed this, a multitude of heads turning this way and that, trying to catch a glimpse of what Dumbledore was referring to. Hermione didn't even bother looking, occupying herself with shuffling on the spot to keep warm.

"There!" a student from somewhere behind them yelled. All eyes turned to the Forbidden Forest, and Hermione finally looked up. Flying in the direction of the castle at some speed, low enough to skim the tallest trees, was _something_ huge. Hermione squinted, ignoring the excited ramblings of the First Years; a dragon? _Honestly_. As the object drew closer, the torches from the Hogwarts grounds and castle illuminated it. Some students still seemed baffled by what they were looking at, but to those who weren't overcome with excitement, it was plain to see. An enormous blue carriage, pulled by twelve or so equally large winged horses. The carriage hurtled closer, flying straight in the direction of the awaiting crowd. The excited murmurs became nervous, with a few people stepping backwards.

The horses touched down first, their giant hooves digging into the grass, sending small bursts of dirt up on either side. Moments later, the carriage came crashing down, rising back up into the air before finally landing for good. It's huge golden wheels cut deep tracks in the earth beneath, before finally it came to a stop. There was an eerie silence as the assembled students took in the sight before them, a few hushed whispers went around, but no one dared make any more noise than that. Dumbledore, smiling as always, stepped towards the carriage. As he did so, the door swung open, and a girl in pale blue robes jumped down onto the grass. She fiddled with something for a moment, before a set of steps unfurled. Seconds later, a giant of a woman stepped out into the cold air. There was a collective intake of breath at the sight of her. The Hagrid-sized woman drew her black satin shawl tighter around herself, before stepping forward to greet Dumbledore.

Dumbledore kissed her hand, and she greeted him in a rather throaty French accent. Dumbledore's own greeting identified the woman as Madame Maxime. As the talked, Hermione's attention was drawn the group of blue-robed students that had gathered behind their headmistress. They seemed to be freezing; gathered together in a tight huddle. She would have sympathised, if they didn't seem to be over-emphasising their discomfort. She rolled her eyes, and looked back to the conversing Head Teachers.

**~xxx~**

About twenty minutes later, they were back in the Great Hall; the thankfully _warm_ Great Hall. The Durmstrang students seemed to be getting on rather well with the Slytherin students, while the Beauxbatons were looking around rather curiously at their surroundings. Hermione frowned curiously as their plates filled with food. Some of the dishes had a distinctly foreign appearance. Ron leant back, almost as if the food had spat at him. "What's _that_?" He pointed warily at the meal in front of him.

"Bouillabaisse," Hermione said matter-of-factly. "I had it on holiday…Summer before last…"

"'_Ermione, you 'ave some bouillabaisse on your face," Fleur giggled._

"_Oh…do I?"_

"'_Ere, let me get it," the French girl reached over and gently wiped the food away. She gave a small smirk, and promptly licked her finger. "Mm, delicious." Hermione rolled her eyes; typical Fleur._

"…it's delicious…"

"I'll take your word for it," Ron said disbelievingly, reaching for the black pudding. Hermione stared into space for moment, lost in memory, before feeling a tap on her shoulder. "Hm?" She turned. "Oh! Ginny, I didn't see you there." The youngest Weasley sat back down, having had to lean over from the other side of the table to reach Hermione.

"You alright?" the redhead asked. "You look a little peaky."

"I'm fine," Hermione waved her hand. "Just thinking." Ginny nodded, before taking a bite out of her own food.

"So, what about them?" She gestured over her shoulder at the newcomers.

"I don't know," Hermione shrugged. "The Beauxbatons seem to be making quite a fuss; it's not_ that_ cold." To the side, she could see Harry and Ron conversing with Hagrid, who had just taken his place at the staff table. Again, Hermione found herself rolling her eyes at the mention of the teacher's Blast-Ended Screwts. "And the Durmstrang certainly seem rather miserable, I don't think I've seen one of-"

"Excuse me." Hermione's world froze. "Are you wanting ze bouillabaisse?"

Ginny looked up at the girl standing behind Hermione, as did Harry and Ron, the latter of whom seemed to be doing a very good impression of a beetroot. He tried to speak, but only managed a bizarre strangled squeak.

"Yeah, have it," Harry said, passing the dish up.

"You 'ave finished wiz it?" the voice asked. Hermione was still motionless.

"Yeah," Ron coughed. "Yeah, it was delicious." Hermione's eye twitched.

Harry handed the dish to the girl, and she headed back to the Ravenclaw table. Ginny watched her leave for a moment, before turning back to Hermione. The brunette had gone pale, her mouth was hanging open slightly and she appeared to have lost the ability to breathe. "Hermione?" Ginny leant over the table, clearly growing more concerned. "You look like you've seen a ghost." She glanced over her shoulder, catching a last glimpse of the girl as her silvery-blonde head disappeared. "Hermione, what's-" She sat back, realisation dawning on her. "Oh…" Hermione blinked; she looked up at Ginny, her expression still rigid. "Hermione…was that…was that her?"

Hermione remained silent, but she knew. She hadn't even seen the speaker, but the voice was all she needed to hear. Slowly, her perception of the world around her began to return. She was vaguely aware of Harry and Ron discussing the attractiveness of the girl they had just seen, but her thoughts were still elsewhere; or rather ironically, on the exact same subject matter.

"They don't make them like that at Hogwarts," Ron said, craning his neck to continue watching the girl.

"Well I hardly think any girl, Hogwarts or not, would appreciate you gawking at her like a piece of meat," Ginny said, still watching Hermione out of the corner of her eye. Ron didn't even seem to hear; he was too busy staring at the Ravenclaw table.

Abruptly, Hermione got to her feet. She stood there for a moment, looking completely lost. Harry looked up at her, as did Ginny. She glanced down at them, opening her mouth to speak. But after a few moments of silence, she just shook her head and left, heading straight for the door.

Too focussed on the newcomers, as well as the presence of Ludo Bagman and Barty Crouch, barely a single person noticed Hermione's exit. Despite this, a pair of deep blue eyes followed her intently, watching for as long as they could.

**~xxx~**

Hermione gazed into the fireplace, her face still devoid of any real colour or emotion. Her eyes were glazed and unfocussed, staring into the dying flames. She had been sat there for a few hours now; the last of the stragglers from the feast had just gone up to bed, leaving her quite alone. Harry and Ron had asked what was wrong when they had arrived, but she just dismissively told them that she wasn't feeling well or hungry. Ron accepted it, but Harry didn't seem entirely convinced; however, Harry knew that if Hermione was lying, it was for a good reason.

She still couldn't believe it; Fleur Delacour, the girl who had stolen her heart more than a year ago; the girl Hermione had assumed was a muggle who she would never see again, was not only a witch, but would be spending the rest of the school term at Hogwarts. Her mind was racing so fast that rational thought was proving to be a struggle for her, despite the usually organised way her mind manifested itself. What would happen when they inevitably crossed paths? Was it possible for her to avoid Fleur for the year? Had Fleur even recognised the back of her head when she had been standing behind her? So many questions she was burning to have answered, and yet there was no way of knowing.

And so she sat, completely motionless, her mind completely disconnected from her body. However, she came hurtling back to reality when a voice surprised her.

"Hermione?" She looked up, and saw Ginny standing awkwardly near the portrait hole.

"Ginny, I…" she paused, looking away again. "I don't want to talk…"

"Well…someone else does…" the redhead replied nervously, stepping to one side. Hermione looked back towards the entrance, just in time to see Fleur step slowly into view. What little breath she had was instantly knocked from her. She hadn't seen Fleur's face in the Great Hall, but there it was, illuminated by the fireplace into complete clarity. She had matured beautifully, but was still instantly recognisable. Her hair was now worn in a ponytail, exposing all of her elegant neck. The blue Beauxbatons uniform made her eyes seem even more distinctive than they had appeared before, and Hermione found herself lost in those deep orbs, even more disorientated than she had been only moments ago.

The French witch smoothly stepped further into the room, slowly moving her gaze away from Hermione, taking in the common room's features. Ginny stood there awkwardly, watching the two older girls nervously. Fleur moved to the centre of the room, glancing up at the simple iron chandelier above them. Hermione continued to watch her, attempting to find something to say, desperate to stop sitting there like a gormless idiot. However, inevitably it was Fleur that spoke first.

"It 'as been a while, Mademoiselle Granger," she said, her voice neutral. Hermione nodded slowly, her own voice still failing her. Fleur regarded her carefully for a few moments, before speaking again. "I am 'ere to take back what is mine."

Hermione was confused for a moment, before she understood. "Oh…" She mentally cursed herself; a fantastic way to greet the other girl after all this time. She got to her feet and reached into the pocket of her robes, slowly withdrawing the pocket watch. Taking a look at it, she bit her bottom lip. "I'm sorry…I…I got ink all over the chain…" Fleur's expression was still neither here nor there; completely blank. She gazed at the watch, taking a few more steps towards the other girl.

"I'll…I'll head up now…" Ginny half-squeaked, rather quickly heading up the stairs to the dormitories. Even more nervous now that she was alone, Hermione couldn't quite bring herself to look at Fleur, expecting to see anger forming on the other girl's face. But what happened next was unexpected, to say the least.

She felt those soft, elegant fingers closing around her outstretched hand, moving her own back down around the object.

"I was not referring to ze watch," Fleur said quietly, finally showing an expression; a smile. And swiftly, before Hermione could say a word, Fleur's lips descended upon her own.

Hermione was flying, she was sure of it. The movement against her lips was soft and gentle, not indicating any escalation, but also showing no signs of ceasing. Within a few moments, she remembered herself, and started to respond in kind. She felt Fleur smile wider into the kiss, and was vaguely aware of the French girl's arms gently encircling her waist. They lost themselves in this kiss; so gentle, and timid on Hermione's part, but underscored with a burning passion, perfectly accompanied by the crackling fire that illuminated them.

The moment was perfect.

**~xxx~**

**Just to clarify, this isn't going to be one of those fics where Fleur somehow does amazingly well in the Tournament, or Hermione becomes Hogwarts' second champion, or anything bizzare like that. This is - hopefully - The Goblet of Fire, if Fleur and Hermione were together.**


	6. Champions

**Harry Potter and all related characters and places are owned by JK Rowling - I just make them dance for my own amusement.**

**Wow, this chapter's a whopper. I can't promise they'll all be this long, but I can try. This story has now broken 100 reviews - from only 5 chapters, which is the best a fic of mine has ever done. As always, a big thank you to you all!**

**A few people asked if I'd made Hermione older, as I've mentioned that she's 15 during this story. That's actually canon - Hermione's birthday is at the end of September, meaning that if she had been born only a week or so earlier, she'd actually be in the year above. While harry is 14 for the entire of GoF, Hermione is only 14 for the first month of term.**

**Anyhoo, on with the show...  
**

**~xxx~**

Fleur was the first to pull away, slowly opening her eyes to observe Hermione's reaction. The younger witch's lips remained slightly parted, before she too opened her eyes. They regarded each other in silence for a moment, before Fleur finally spoke.

"Why did you run?" she asked quietly. Hermione swallowed nervously, unable to tear her eyes away from those deep blue orbs.

"I…" She was distinctly away of Fleur's arms still firmly placed around her waist, preventing her from leaving the embrace. "I was scared…"

"Zat's it?" Fleur's tone was surprisingly dangerous. "I wait all zis time…" She let out a heavy breath. "…to 'ear that ze love of my life got scared?"

"Fleur, I was only twelve," Hermione said delicately. "I…I thought it was just a crush…or something…I-"

"Do you 'ave any idea what it was like for me?" Fleur demanded, actually tightening her hold on the other girl. "Returning 'ome, 'aving felt for you zat entire week…"

"A week, Fleur," Hermione reminded her. "You're telling me that you fell in love with me in just a _week_?"

"Can you 'onestly say zat you did not feel ze same?" The Frenchwoman's eyes were almost pleading, and Hermione found herself feeling more and more unnerved.

"I…" She finally managed to wrench her eyes away. "I…no, I can't."

"Zen 'ow could you run away?" Hermione looked back up upon hearing the tone of Fleur's voice, and saw that her bright blue eyes were glistening with tears. "I don't care zat you didn't tell me you are a witch. I don't care zat it was only a week. I…" Now it was Fleur's turn to look away, choking back a sob.

"Fleur, don't cry," the brunette pleaded. She reached up, and tucked a stray hair behind Fleur's ear. "Please…" She could feel tears of her own now. "I…I hated myself for what I did…leaving you there…"

"So what now?" Fleur asked, looking back up and revealing her tear-stained cheeks. "Tell me what you want, 'Ermione. We can be togez'er, just as we wanted all zat time ago. Or I can leave, go back to ze carriage, and I will not trouble you for ze rest of my time 'ere."

"Why couldn't we just be friends?" Hermione asked, frowning. Fleur looked uneasy.

"Is…is that what you want?"

"No!" the younger witch replied a little too quickly. "I mean yes…but not just that…I just meant that you didn't give any sort of middle option and-"

Fleur placed a finger upon the other girl's lips, stopping her babbling. "What do you want, 'Ermione?"

"I…" She took a deep breath. "I want to be with you, Fleur. That's all I've wanted ever since we met." She felt quite pleased that she had got that out.

The French witch beamed, her eyes still sparkling with tears. "Zen zat is what you shall 'ave." She pulled Hermione into a tight embrace, burying her face in Hermione's messy hair. The younger girl returned it enthusiastically, holding Fleur as tightly as she could.

And then, almost in unison, they both started laughing.

They talked for hours. Unbound by the restrictions of their earlier encounter, they were free to tell each other absolutely everything about their lives, both before and after their meeting in France. It had taken Hermione nearly the whole first hour to fully get over the fact that she was talking to Fleur Delacour, in the Gryffindor Common Room no less. Since then, she had become a lot more settled; resting comfortably against the French witch as they continued to talk, curled up together on the settee facing the fireplace.

Fleur told her all about the Beauxbatons Palace, how her own studies were progressing, and how Gabrielle was doing. Hermione listened intently, simply enjoying being back in the company of the person that had affected her so much since they had first met. The initial shock of meeting Fleur again now gone, Hermione was surprised at just how well they had picked up where they had left off, almost as if they had simply been parted for a week or so. Of course the surprise of meeting her had been replaced by the shock that now she was pretty sure Fleur and she were now going out. It had certainly been an eventful day.

**~xxx~**

"Hermione?"

A nudge.

"Hermione, wake up."

Another nudge.

The brunette blearily opened her eyes, blinking rapidly as her vision cleared. She was sitting upon the settee in front of the fire, which was now dark and empty. She turned to the side, and felt a sharp pain in her neck, most likely as a result of the position she had slept in. Ginny Weasley was sat on the arm of the settee, looking rather smug about something. Hermione groaned and sat forward, massaging her neck.

"What time is it?" she asked.

"About seven," the redhead replied.

"_Seven_?" Hermione repeated. "Ginny, it's Saturday!"

"And everyone's really excited about the Goblet of Fire," Ginny replied. "I came to wake you up before everyone comes down and finds you here."

"Thanks," Hermione grunted. She got to her feet, pretty sure that every bone in her body was cracking. "Ugh, I feel like someone's cast a full body bind on me."

"Well if you'll insist on sleeping down here…"

"Wait," Hermione mentally slapped herself for not realising sooner. "Where's Fleur?"

"Fleur?" Ginny raised her eyebrows. "What were you _dreaming_ about?"

"Dreaming…?" the brunette replied incredulously. Ginny just sniggered.

"I'm kidding. Your _girlfriend_ left when I came down," she said. "She told me to tell you that she'd see you later."

"Wait, she told you we're going out?" the older witch asked, earning a nod from Ginny.

"She called you something else too when she left; sounded French," the redhead said with a shrug. "Sounded kinda cute, whatever it meant. She even kissed you goodbye."

"You two need to stop talking about me behind my back," Hermione said, rolling her eyes. And then she frowned. "Wait a minute…" She glared at Ginny. "Oh yes, I have a bone to pick with you _Ginevra_." She stepped closer. "Just how much did you tell her on your way up last night?"

"I'm quite sure I don't know what you mean," Ginny replied, smirking.

"Oh yes you do; Fleur told me she only kissed me straight away because she knew I wasn't with anyone," the bushy haired girl said sternly. "Now how could she have found that out?"

"It's not my fault!" the younger girl insisted, still smiling. "She cornered me on the way out of the Great Hall. Introduced herself; not that she needed to, I knew it was her from how you reacted. She asked to see you, so I said I'd show her to the tower and let her in. That's a pretty long walk, so we had plenty of time to talk."

"Just what else have you been telling her?" Hermione asked dangerously.

"How much you _loooove_ her, of course!"

The speed at which Hermione levitated a cushion into Ginny's face was probably record-breaking.

**~xxx~**

In the Entrance Hall, Harry and Ron observed the students still surrounding the Goblet, cheering whenever someone from their house stepped over the Age Line to enter their name. A Ravenclaw Seventh Year gained applause as he stepped away from the Goblet, a nervous grin on his face. Harry joined in absent-mindedly, just happy that plenty of non-Slytherin Hogwarts students were vying for the position. Ron was just tapping his fingers impatiently; after deciding to go visit Hagrid, Hermione had rushed off to get her box of S.P.E.W badges, causing a great amount of mirth from Ron.

"Do you think all the Durmstrang and Beauxbatons are entering?" Harry mused, watching as a couple of Durmstrang boys stepped towards the Goblet.

"Must be," Ron replied. "Wouldn't be here otherwise, would they?"

"I suppose," Harry said. "There's not that many from each, so it'd make sense."

"Wonder what the others at their schools think?" Ron continued. "Must be gutted that they don't even get to watch."

"Just think how big the carriage would have to be!" Harry said, and they both laughed.

They were interrupted in their discussion of how impressive the Durmstrang ship would be if it had the capacity to take an entire school's student body, by the sound of loud rattling. They looked up and saw Hermione rushing down the stairs towards them, her box of badges under her arm. "About time," Ron said, rolling his eyes. "Do you honestly think Hagrid's going to be interested?"

"He's the _Care_ of Magical Creatures Professor," Hermione reminded them waspishly. "It's as good as his responsibility to join."

"Just how many of those bloody things do you have?" Ron asked, raising an eyebrow at the box. Hermione held it out and opened it, revealing the multitude of badges within. Ron shook his head. "Do you really think you're going to get that many people to join? How did you even get so many?"

"A simple multiplication charm," Hermione replied irritably. Distracted by their bickering, neither they nor Harry noticed someone walking over to them, or the amount of heads turning to follow them.

"Excuses-moi?" The trio looked up to find Fleur Delacour standing there, a pleasant smile upon her face, her appearance as immaculate as always. "What are zose?"

"They're nothing," Ron said quickly, stepping in front of Hermione. "Nothing interesting." Hermione was puzzled; Fleur seemed to be feigning unfamiliarity. Then again, they hadn't discussed how open their relationship was going to be, so clearly she was simply playing it safe until they spoke about it. She concealed a smile, rather smug in the knowledge that she was involved with the object of Ron's uncontrollable gawking.

Fleur ignored Ron, and leant awkwardly to the side, smiling nervously at Hermione, awaiting an answer.

"Oh, these are badges for S.P.E.W," Hermione explained. "The Society for the Promotion of Elfish Welfare." Fleur looked curious, and motioned for Hermione to continue. "House-elves are treated like slaves by most of the wizarding world; they work for no pay and get no holidays, furthermore they are often treated with contempt and are abused by their masters, who don't seem to care simply because they're not human."

Ron just shook his head apologetically, clearly expecting the French witch to laugh. But instead, Fleur reached into the small bag she carried.

"'Ow much?" she asked, smiling. "For ze badge?"

"Umm, well membership is two Sickles, and that gets you the badge and a pass to all future meetings," Hermione explained.

"Here you are," Fleur said, handing the coins over. Hermione pocketed the money, smiling briefly as their hands touched. She handed Fleur a badge, who took it and affixed it to her robes straight away. "Merci. I shall…'ow do you say…spread ze word?"

"Thanks." Hermione said brightly. "That would be great."

"I've always been a big supporter," Ron said boldly, puffing out his chest. "What happens to those elves…" He closed his eyes, and placed a hand over his heart. "…it hurts so much."

Fleur just nodded slowly, an eyebrow raised. "I…see…"

"Fleur, nous serons en retard!" a voice called from somewhere near the open doors that lead to the grounds.

"Je serai là dans un moment!" Fleur replied over her shoulder. She turned back to Hermione and smiled. "Merci again." She turned on her heel and left, following the other Beauxbatons students as they were lead away by Madame Maxime.

"Bloody hell…" Ron breathed. "What just happened?"

"Before or after you made a complete prat of yourself?" Harry asked, grinning. Hermione laughed.

"I think you just got proof that not everyone thinks this-" She held up the box and rattled it. "-is a waste of time."

"Probably didn't want to be rude," Ron said dismissively. "You know how nice they say the French are."

Harry just shook his head. "Shall we get going then?"

**~xxx~**

On their way back from Hagrid's, they saw both the Beauxbatons and the Durmstrang students making their way up to the castle for the Halloween Feast; and of course, the announcement of the Champions. From this distance, Hermione couldn't see Fleur; the identical uniforms didn't help. As always, Krum was at the front of the Durmstrang in his extra furs with Karkaroff, with the others behind them. Ron began his usual rambling about Krum, and how likely he was to be chosen as the Durmstrang Champion. Hermione however, who was still squinting past Hagrid and Madame Maxime's large forms to see Fleur, came to a sudden realisation; the French witch had almost certainly entered her name into the Goblet of Fire. Fleur had told her that Gabrielle was there with her, and now she was kicking herself for not picking up on that; she was probably there to watch Fleur should she be chosen. Dumbledore's words echoed worrying in her mind; people have died in this tournament. She shuddered, thinking of the danger her girlfriend would be placing herself in if she were chosen.

As they entered the Great Hall, her eyes wandered to the Ravenclaw table. She spotted Fleur almost instantly, seated near the end closest to the teacher's table. Tearing her eyes away, she sat with Ron and Harry, listening to Fred and George – thankfully now beardless - discussing their hopes for the Hogwarts Champion. As they ate, Hermione couldn't help glancing at Fleur, watching her conversing with Cho Chang. She felt a little strange to keep looking at the French witch like this, but the more she tried to focus on her food, the more she found herself distracted. While Harry and Ron were clearly excited about the Champions being chosen, but Hermione found herself becoming more and more nervous. She could feel it bubbling up inside her, growing more and more noticeable as the feast went on; she worried that it would become noticeable. As if answering her thoughts, Ginny tapped her on the shoulder.

"You feeling alright?" the redhead asked. "You're looking like you did last night."

"Just a little nervous, is all," Hermione said, shaking her head. Ginny followed her eyes, and seemed unsurprised to find herself looking at Fleur Delacour.

"That she'll be chosen?" Ginny whispered. Hermione nodded, swallowing her food uncomfortably.

"Well you didn't think she was here for the scenery, did you?" the younger witch said, shrugging. "It was a given that she was going to enter."

"Well funnily enough it slipped my mind," Hermione replied irritably. "All things considered."

"Ah yes," Ginny said, smiling. "How goes the fairytale romance?"

"Very funny," Hermione deadpanned.

"Well I'm just saying," the redhead said innocently. "She's been here a day and you're already going out."

"There's more to it than that, and you know it."

As their plates cleared, Dumbledore rose to his feet and began to speak. As he did so, Hermione allowed herself one final glance across to the Ravenclaw table. Fleur was watching Dumbledore intently, listening carefully as he explained what the Champions would be required to do if chosen. Hermione felt a chill; there was a chance Fleur was going to need that information. Dumbledore waved his wand, and all of the candles put themselves out, leaving only the pumpkins and the Goblet itself to provide illumination.

The atmosphere was tense; constant murmurs and whispers, merging into a quiet hum that seemed to mimic the strange vibrations coursing through Hermione's body. A collective gasp rippled across the room as the blue flames turned red, sparks dancing into the air. There was a whoosh of flame, and a singed piece of parchment flew upwards. Dumbledore expertly caught it, and turned it the right way up.

"The Champion for Durmstrang will be Victor Krum!" he announced. There was wild applause from all over the hall.

"No surprises there!" Ron yelled happily, joining in heartily. Krum rose from the Slytherin table, his fellow students congratulating him as he walked up to the staff table, exiting through the door behind it. Hermione applauded with the others, but her stomach was doing backflips. It was highly likely that the Hogwarts Champion would be chosen last, meaning the Beauxbatons was next. Her eyes were locked on Fleur, watching as the French witch along with everyone else stopped clapping.

The flames turned red again, and a second piece of parchment flew into Dumbledore's hand. The moment seemed to take an eternity to pass; Hermione barely noticed that she had taken to gripping the edge of the table.

"The Champion for Beauxbatons is Fleur Delacour!"

The thunderous applause seemed oddly distant. Hermione watched as Fleur, noticeably still wearing her S.P.E.W badge, quickly whispered something in the ear of her sister, before she got to her feet and stepped swiftly towards the staff table. Not wanting to repeat last night, she forced herself to applaud along with the rest of her peers. Despite her own reservations, she couldn't help but be amused at how upset some of the other Beauxbatons students seemed; some even bursting into tears. As Fleur disappeared from view, she felt an odd glimmer of pride; watching the reactions on a lot of the faces around the hall. She turned to Ginny, who smiled in return, clearly pleased that there wasn't going to be another 'incident.'

Silence once again filled the room, even more tense than before; the Hogwarts Champion was next. A lot of people seemed to be leaning forwards in their seats, expectantly waiting the final piece of parchment. Again, the flames turned red, and Dumbledore was given a name.

"The Hogwarts Champion is Cedric Diggory!"

The Hufflepuff table erupted with thunderous applause, drowning out Ron's dismay. Many of the other Hogwarts students clapped anyway, as did the Durmstrang and Beauxbatons, though less excitedly. Hermione was still slightly thrown off kilter by Fleur's selection, but she joined in all the same. Ginny leant over.

"I take it Cedric can't count on your support?" she asked over the din from the next table, to which Hermione just gave a sheepish smile. By the time the applause had died down, Cedric had long disappeared out of the hall. Dumbledore smiled as he waiting for the students to quieten down, before finally speaking again.

"Excellent!" he said, clapping his hands together. "Well, we now have our three Champions. I am sure we can count upon all of your, including the remaining students from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang, to give your Champions every ounce of support you can muster. By cheering your champion on, you will contribute in a very real-"

Dumbledore's words were interrupted by another whoosh of red flame. The students gasped, and watched as the parchment fluttered down into Dumbledore's hand. As he looked at the words, the room was abuzz with excited and confused whispers. Dumbledore cleared his throat.

"Harry Potter."

**~xxx~**

Fleur looked out across the mountains from the covered bridge. Given the unstable appearance of the wooden structure, she was pretty sure it was being held up by magic. Night had fallen a long while ago, and a strong breeze had kicked up. She looked to the side, and saw a cloaked figure approaching.

"I worried zat Gabrielle would not be able to get to you at ze end of ze feast," Fleur said, watching as Hermione walked towards her. The brunette's cloak billowed in the wind as she drew closer, along with her scarf. "I should 'ave told Mademoiselle Weasley where I wanted to meet you zis morning."

"She seemed pleased to see me," Hermione replied, shivering as she stopped in front of Fleur. "Her English is rather good."

"She wanted to learn as soon as we confused 'er on 'oliday," Fleur explained. She smiled, and embraced the other girl. "Mmmm I 'ave wanted to do zis all day."

"It can't be the most exciting thing you've done today," Hermione replied, returning the hug. "I believe congratulations are in order."

"Merci beaucoup," Fleur said gratefully, stepping back. "Zough I must ask you somez'ing first."

"What is it?"

"Did 'Arry put 'is name in ze Goblet?" Her voice was serious. Hermione had been expecting a grilling on Harry's involvement, and knew she would have to choose her words carefully; she wasn't jeopardising her relationship with Fleur before it had truly started just because of some stupid tournament.

"I don't know," she replied honestly. "What I do know is that Dumbledore would have thought of everything; Harry wouldn't have been able to come up with something that Dumbledore hadn't foreseen."

Fleur nodded, glancing away for a moment. "I believe you," she said after a moment. "I cannot promise that Madame Maxime will, but I do."

"What happened in there?" Hermione asked. "What did they say?"

"Zat 'Arry must compete," Fleur explained. "Madame Maxime and Karkaroff are angry about ze situation, of course. I would be lying if I said I wasn't a little annoyed myself." She leant against the closest wooden beam. "But zey all agreed zat no matter 'ow 'Arry's name got into ze Goblet, 'e has to compete."

"It's stupid," Hermione agreed. "You don't want him there, the other judges don't want him there – I doubt even he wants to be there."

"You 'ave not spoken to 'im?" Fleur frowned. Hermione shook her head.

"No, not yet," the brunette replied. She gave a sheepish smile. "I'm here, aren't I?"

"Zat is true," Fleur said with a smile of her own.

"Though I have to ask, why aren't you at the carriage?" Hermione asked. "I would have thought you'd be celebrating with your friends."

"You know 'ow much I 'ate ze attention," Fleur replied. "I told Madame Maxime zat I was feeling a little faint, and zat I wanted to lay down." She smirked. "And zen I climbed out of ze window."

"I can't imagine you jumping out of a window," Hermione said, trying to picture it. "You're far too elegant for that."

"Well…" the French witch leant her head teasingly close. "Per'aps I jumped out of ze window…elegantly."

They both laughed, their voices echoing gently across the wide expanse surrounding the bridge. They beamed at each other, simply enjoying the moment. However, a thought occurred to Hermione, and her smile faded. "Fleur…there is something I wanted to ask about."

"Oh?"

"Just how public is this relationship going to be?" Hermione asked. "I mean…at the moment, only Ginny knows."

"Zat is entirely up to you," the blonde replied. "I myself am not boz'ered by 'ow people see me. My own peers will not be zat surprised; I go to an all-girls school, afterall. Zere are bound to be some zere who prefer female companionship. As for ze fact zat you are from 'Ogwarts? Zey will 'ave to deal wiz it. What about you?"

"I don't know…" Hermione looked out at the mountains again. "I've never been in a relationship before, so the fact that you're female really has no bearing on it. I just…as you know, I'm a little reserved sometimes. I'd just like some time to really get to grips with this, if that's okay."

"Zat is fine," Fleur said with a smile. "We 'ave ze 'ole year to come out. Zough I imagine ze tournament may be a problem…"

"But I thought the whole point was international wizarding co-operation," Hermione said. "Surely we're the perfect example of that?"

"Ha!" Fleur gave Hermione an incredulous look. "You will 'ave a 'ard time convincing some people zat ze tournament is about zat." She shivered, drawing her think silky cloak tighter around herself. "To most, ze tournament is a competition to prove which magical school is ze best."

"That's ridiculous!" the brunette replied sharply. "It's just a game, afterall."

"Be zat as it may, I still aim to win," Fleur said, grinning widely. Hermione looked unsure, but the other witch just continued smiling. "While at ze same time staying as safe as I possibly can, of course." Hermione raised an eyebrow, and Fleur's expression became serious. "Ma chéri, why would I risk my life for a trophy and some money, when I 'ave you to come back to?"

Hermione smiled and nodded, a slight tinge appearing upon her cheeks. "Charmer," she said grudgingly. Fleur giggled.

"You know me so well," she replied, and they laughed again. Hermione glanced at her watch.

"We should probably be getting back now, it's rather late," she said. Fleur nodded in agreement.

"Oui, I do not wish to get you into trouble." Fleur held out her hand, and Hermione took it. They smiled, and started to walk up through the grounds.

"Oh, sorry about Ron," Hermione said, remembering their initial meeting that day. "He's rather enamoured with you."

"No need to appologise," the blonde replied. "I am used to boys fawning over me. In fact…" She considered for a moment. "…zat has somez'ing to do wiz why I wanted to join your elf rights society."

"Oh?" Hermione seemed confused. Nearing the carriage, they stopped, facing each other.

"Well I suppose it 'as more to do with non-'uman rights in general," she said. "'Ermione," Fleur took a breath. "I am a quarter Veela. _Zat_ is why all ze boys fawn over me as zey do."

Hermione regarded the other girl for a moment, absorbing this new information. Truth be told she hadn't really thought about why so many people gawked at Fleur, but that probably had something to do with the fact that she herself found her so attractive. It would also explain why Ron's IQ seemed to drop so much when he saw the blonde witch.

"Is zat…a problem?" Fleur sounded almost fearful. Hermione snapped out of her thoughts.

"What? No!" She smiled. "No, I was just thinking; it does make sense now."

"Oui," the French witch nodded. "Unfortunately, ze Veela blood being as diluted as it is means zat while my z'rall is not as strong as a true Veela, it is also more uncontrollable." She smiled. "'Owever, as you may know, it only works on males, so I am afraid whatever you feel for me is quite real."

Hermione chuckled. "I suppose I shall just have to deal with it."

"Bien," Fleur said, pecking Hermione on the cheek. "Now zen, time for bed."

"Oh, before you go," Hermione began. She reached to her collar and pulled her scarf off, gathering it neatly in her hands. "Have this." Fleur took it, confused. "Those scarves you wear aren't very thick; I thought you could use something a little warmer."

"You are such a sweet'art," Fleur replied, clutching the red and gold scarf tightly. "But what will oz'er people zink?"

"How do they know it wasn't just a gift from a Gryffindor admirer?" Hermione smiled. "They'll never suspect."

"You always 'ave ze answer," the French witch said, grinning. She reached forwards and pulled the younger girl towards her, hugging her tightly. "I shall try to see you tomorrow, mon amour."

"I'll talk to Harry," Hermione said. "Then I'll know for sure if he's telling the truth."

Fleur nodded. "Just remember," she said in a serious tone. "I shall be expecting my girlfriend's support in zis tournament."

"Oh just go to bed already," Hermione replied, giving the other girl a playful shove. Fleur chuckled, and gave Hermione a quick peck on the lips. She set off towards the Beauxbatons carriage, giving a wave as she disappeared from view.

Hermione stood there for a moment, feeling rather warm despite having given up her scarf. This whole girlfriend business was definitely something she could get used to.


	7. Behind Closed Doors

**Harry Potter and all related characters and places are owned by JK Rowling - I just make them dance for my own amusement.**

**~xxx~**

It was nearly a week before Hermione and Fleur had a chance to speak again. In the time since their last meeting, Hermione had grown increasingly irritated with Harry and Ron's continued feud, glad that she had someone besides them to spend time with. While Ginny was always around to talk to in the evenings, she obviously spent a good deal of her time with those in her own year, for which Hermione couldn't blame her. Despite this, the redhead did make a point of smirking a lot during breakfast, watching Hermione attempt to avert her eyes from the Ravenclaw table. Harry had mentioned what he had discovered at the weighing of the wands; about Fleur's Veela heritage. She had feigned surprise, and had had to stop herself from quickly replying 'I know.'

Today, Hermione had managed to sneak a note to Gabrielle in the crowded entrance hall. She didn't dare approach Fleur in front of everyone else; in fact she had taken to occasionally complaining about the attitude of the Beauxbatons students, as her 'cover.' Besides, Fleur's sister – now fully aware of their relationship – seemed perfectly happy to play messenger, finding it all highly amusing. Hermione shivered as she waited, even though she wore her winter cloak over her robes, which by themselves were relatively warm, she was still chilly. She had decided to meet Fleur in the owlery, as not only was it usually empty around this time of day, but if anyone did disturb them, it would just be assumed they were both sending messages and happened to be doing it at the same time.

"You know," a voice said from behind her. "I zink I would 'ave preferred meeting in ze middle of ze lake." Hermione turned on the spot, to find herself facing a very rosy-cheeked Fleur Delacour. The French witch looked positively frozen, her arms rigid at her sides. Hermione's old scarf was wrapped tightly around her neck, but it didn't seem to be doing much good in the blustery tower. "'Ermione, it is absolutely freezing up 'ere!"

"Let me warm you up," the brunette replied with a smile, reaching forwards and wrapping her arms around the other witch, making sure her cloak came with her. Fleur wasn't exaggerating; Hermione felt like she was embracing a block of ice.

"'Ermione…" Fleur said cautiously. "What exactly am I standing on…?" She was peering rather warily over the other girl's shoulder, eying the floor with a frown.

"Oh, um…" Hermione stepped back. "Owl droppings."

"Get back 'ere," Fleur snapped, throwing her arms around Hermione again. "I am still freezing." She wrinkled her nose. "And now my shoes are ruined."

"Stop being such a baby," Hermione replied with a smile. "They'll wash."

"And ze smell…" Fleur continued, earning a laugh from Hermione.

"Oh stop it," she said playfully. "Some Champion you are if you're afraid of getting dirty or smelly."

Fleur just glared for a moment, before smiling. "So, what do you 'ave to tell me?" she asked. "Ow are your lessons going?"

"Fine," Hermione replied simply. "We're looking at something pretty fascinating in Ancient Runes at the moment." Fleur finally stepped away, and nodded. "But what about yours? In fact…" Hermione frowned. "Just how are your lessons being done anyway?"

"It is a bit of a mix," the French witch replied. "Zose zat can speak English, such as myself, are sitting in on ze Ravenclaw lessons, while zose zat cannot are being tutored by Madame Maxime."

"What about your exams, though?" Hermione asked. "You're in your final year."

"All zose zat are 'ere will be given extra time during ze Summer 'olidays to revise, and can take zere exams when zey feel zey are ready," Fleur explained. "Zis is especially relevant for myself, all zing's considered…"

"Well I hope this tournament doesn't ruin your exam prospects," Hermione said, sounding genuinely concerned. Fleur just laughed.

"'Ermione, you forget I am ze top student," she smiled. "Of course I will do well!"

Hermione rolled her eyes, but smiled. However, as she did so, Fleur frowned, and leant closer. The brunette looked puzzled. "What's wrong?"

"Open your mouth again," Fleur instructed. Hermione did as was asked, and the blonde leant closer again. "'Ermione, what 'ave you done to your teeth?"

"Oh," Hermione closed her mouth, looking away shyly. "Well, an idiot in my Potions class decided to hex me; some sort of enlargement spell. It hit my teeth, and when I had them shrunk back down in the hospital wing, I just…let them carry on for a few seconds more."

"Oh 'Ermione, zey were perfect to begin wiz," Fleur said sadly, half pouting. Hermione went scarlet.

"You…you thought so?"

"Oui," Fleur nodded, but then she smirked. "'Owever, I still look forward to running my tongue over zem." If Hermione had been red before, it was nothing compared to the colour she went at those words. Fleur positively cackled. "Oh ma chéri, you are so adorable!"

"Shut it," Hermione retorted, not quite managing a glare. Fleur just leant closer.

"Hmmm I zink I may do it now…" she purred, gently holding Hermione's arms.

"Fleur, do you honestly want our first proper snog to be in the middle of a freezing cold tower filled with owl droppings?" she asked bluntly, an eyebrow raised.

Fleur wrinkled her nose again, and hesitated. "…per'aps you are right."

"Don't worry," Hermione said with a smile. "You'll get your chance to shove your tongue down my throat."

"I certainly 'ope so," Fleur replied. "Now zen, what else do you 'ave to tell me?" They stepped over to the nearest window, watching the students moving about the entrance courtyard across the gorge.

"Well, Harry and Ron still aren't talking," Hermione replied, sighing. "It's getting ridiculous."

"Ronald still believes 'Arry entered 'is name?" the blonde asked.

"I don't know," Hermione shook her head. "Honestly, I think he does believe Harry."

"Then why-"

"He's jealous!" The younger witch almost laughed at the absurdity of it. "He's jealous that once again, Harry is in the limelight."

"'E does not sound like zat much of a friend…" Fleur mused, but Hermione shook her head.

"Oh he is," she said. "He's one of the best friends you could ever ask for – not that I'd admit it." She sighed again. "It's just…Ron has always lived in the shadows of other people. His brothers, and now Harry. I think he's just angry, and hounding Harry about entering his name is just the way he's justifying it."

"I see," Fleur nodded. "I 'ope Gabrielle never feels zat way about me."

"Gabrielle has one sibling," Hermione said. "Ron has five brothers. Harry makes six. And even Ginny – a year younger than him – is one of the best flyers I've ever seen." She shook her head. "Harry being in the Triwizard Tournament is just another thing to add to the chip on his shoulder."

"I 'ad no idea…" Fleur said quietly. "It must be 'ard…"

"Don't be too nice," Hermione said, shooting Fleur a small smile. "He's still being an idiot about this."

"'E is a teenage boy, of course 'e is an idiot," the blonde replied. She sidestepped closer to the other girl, placing an arm around her shoulders. "No such stupidity from my 'Ermione."

Hermione rested her head against Fleur's shoulder, and slid an arm around the older girl's waist. "I'm yours now, am I?"

"You always 'ave been…"

**~xxx~**

A few more days passed, and Hermione was beginning to regret her nervousness about revealing her relationship with Fleur. They hadn't even been together for two whole weeks, but already she was growing weary of having to keep it hidden. Since their meeting in the owlery, they had met once more, and Hermione was pretty sure that Fleur was starting to resent having to run around in the shadows. She understood completely; Fleur was the sort of person who walked with her head held up high. She was aware that Fleur didn't crave attention like some believed, but she was still a very confident and outgoing person.

She was under no delusions that Fleur would just leave her 'for not being interesting', but at the same time she was well aware that the French witch was getting a little annoyed. In fact she had spent so long thinking the subject over, that after one particularly long and ranting internal debate, she had decided to go see Fleur that morning, and talk to her about revealing their relationship.

Unfortunately, this plan came crashing down when she saw that morning's copy of The Daily Prophet. She flung it onto a nearby table, positively fuming.

"That bloody Skeeter woman!" she snapped. "Harry said she twisted his words but I had no idea it'd go that far."

"Well…" Ginny said tentatively, taking the paper and scanning through the article. "At least she called you 'stunningly pretty'?"

"She also said I'm going out with Harry," Hermione fumed, folding her arms. "Do you have any idea how many people will have seen this?"

"Well you're not exactly showing anything to deny it. You spend an awful lot of time with Harry," Ginny reminded her. "You did say you were going to talk to Fleur about coming out."

"Oh Ginny how can I even think about doing it with _that woman_ writing this rubbish?" she said, flopping back into her chair. "I can't inflict that on Fleur."

"I don't think she'd mind, from what you've told me," the redhead said, shrugging. "She doesn't seem to care what people think."

"And neither do I, not really," Hermione said. "But…I don't know, Ginny. I don't even want to think about what sort of things _she_ would say." She glared at the paper.

"Well you could at least tell Harry," Ginny suggested. "At least tell the people you trust."

"Oh that'll sound wonderful, won't it?" the brunette snapped. "'By the way, Harry, I'm going out with one of the people you're competing against, but good luck anyway'."

"I don't know what to suggest then," Ginny replied, throwing up her arms. "But you're going to have to decide on something, because at this rate, people are going to find out when you have a nervous breakdown."

"You're probably right," Hermione sighed dejectedly. "It's just…all of this is doing my head in. Having to keep being with Fleur secret, worrying about how angry it's making her, this stupid argument between Harry and Ron, and now _this_." She jabbed a finger at the paper. "And that's not even including the Death Eaters at the World Cup, and how Harry's name got into the Goblet – both of which people seem to have forgotten about!"

"Well it would ease everything if you at least talked to her about it," Ginny said. "Or at least spend some time with her. You look like you need it."

Hermione smiled wearily. "I couldn't agree more."

**~xxx~**

About two weeks later, Hermione's nerves were even more frazzled. To her great relief, in her next meeting with Fleur, the French witch had agreed that Rita Skeeter's likelihood of finding out about their relationship would be a problem. She had admitted that she would prefer for them to be open about it, but understood that despite her misleading maturity, Hermione was still only fifteen, and didn't need the pressure of the public eye, especially given how the press could twist the facts. They had actually had a good laugh trying to outdo each other with the extremes to which they could imagine the story being taken; ending up with Hermione as a naïve and innocent youngster who was being manipulated and corrupted by Fleur the seductive femme fatale.

Being fed up with Ron and Harry gave Hermione a good excuse to spend more time with Fleur, and they met several times, just talking about recent events. However, the First Task was looming ever closer, and unsurprisingly Fleur had begun practicing new spells and enchantments, still in the dark as to quite what she – and of course, Harry – would face. Hermione was focussing on the rather difficult task of teaching Harry summoning charms, which he still had yet to master. Every time she tutored him, however, she regretted not being able to do the same for Fleur. She wanted nothing more than to help her girlfriend prepare, but if Rita Skeeter got her talons into the fact that a Hogwarts student was helping the Beauxbatons Champion gain an edge over not one, but two Hogwarts competitors, the uproar would be enormous.

She had hoped that the secretive nature of their relationship would have been rather romantic; stealing kisses out of sight and the like. But the reality was that it was awkward and decidedly irritating; meeting in chilly hallways or out on the increasingly cold grounds at night.

On Sunday afternoon, Hermione was once again in the Library. Harry had gone back to the Gryffindor Tower to try and get some sleep, but she had decided to stay, pouring over spellbooks and cross-referencing with all the books they could find on dragons. Unbeknownst to Harry, she was planning on taking some rough notes to pass on to Fleur. Harry had told her all about Hagrid's moonlit stroll with Madame Maxime, and that Fleur likely knew about the dragons, as did Krum. The discovery that they were what would be faced in the First Task made Hermione's skin crawl. Both Harry and Fleur would be facing huge winged, fire-breathing beasts, and all while the rest of the students watched and cheered. In her mind, it was totally barbaric.

She watched as Krum continued to read, surrounded as ever by giggling girls. He looked up, and Hermione quickly looked back down at her book; the last thing she needed was Krum getting it into his head that she was fawning over him like the others. Focussing on her own book, she didn't notice someone approaching from behind, until she felt a pair of fingers walking up her shoulder.

"Well well…" a voice said. "Zere are ze books I was looking for…"

Hermione didn't even bother looking up; she just smiled. "And I've already been through them and bookmarked all the relevant pages." She looked up at Fleur. Standing to her left, Fleur was concealed by a bookshelf, out of sight of Krum and his 'entourage'.

"I believe I 'ave your friend 'Agrid to zank," Fleur said, sitting beside the other girl. Hermione nodded, and turned in her seat to face the blonde.

"I did some research about the Tournament itself, before we found out about the dragons," Hermione said, shifting her notes and pulling a book towards her. "Apparently, it's not uncommon for Champions to find out about tasks beforehand." She placed the book back down. "Harry said he saw Karkaroff when he left, so he-" She jabbed a thumb over her shoulder. "-knows about them too."

"Zat only leaves Monsieur Diggory," Fleur said. "I almost feel bad for ze poor boy."

"To be perfectly honest, knowing is only the beginning," Hermione said, rubbing the bridge of her nose. "I've dug up everything I could, but it's not much. I can tell you how to identify dragons, how to care for them, how to breed them, and how to kill them." She shook her head. "But subduing or distracting them? It seems impossible. Hagrid mentioned that they were nesting mothers, meaning they probably want them to be protecting something."

Fleur nodded, her expression serious. "Oui, it is a problem…" She looked up. "'Ow well do spells affect them? I 'ave 'eard dragon scales are highly resistant."

"They are," Hermione said, pulling a sheet of parchment towards herself. "Direct spells won't work; stunning, knock-backs; that sort of thing. From what I've read, it seems the best approach would be some sort of charm, but the problem is getting it to work – you really have to put some power into it to get it to have an effect on a dragon."

"I 'ave been practicing a few zings zat could come in useful," Fleur said, giving a small smile. "Gabrielle has been my unfortunate partner."

"I wish I could help…" Hermione mused, looking back to her notes. Fleur just held up her hand, her smile becoming slightly pained.

"Do not worry yourself," she said. "I do not blame you."

Hermione nodded, looking back to Fleur. She smiled, staring into those deep blue eyes. "Even without me, I know you'll do well."

"Wiz you to come back to? Of course I will."

Hermione chuckled and nodded again. They talked for a little while longer, before Hermione decided to head back to the Common Room, mainly to keep an eye on Harry. Fleur helped her return the books to their rightful places, making sure that when in view of others, they showed no signs of familiarity. Luckily, by this point the library was almost completely deserted. Their task finished, Hermione returned to where she had been studying to retrieve her bag. However, she found herself pressed up against the bookcase.

The light of the dying candles danced in Fleur's eyes, staring hungrily into Hermione's. She smiled, flashing those pearly white teeth. Hermione gulped.

It was oddly appropriate that her 'first proper snog' took place surrounded by dusty old books.

**~xxx~**

After an entire day of practice, Harry had yet to master a summoning charm. Hermione was seated in one of the armchairs in the Common Room, watching lazily as Harry attempted to summon a quill towards himself. He had managed a few objects in the practice during lunch, but the break in their work seemed to have reset his abilities; now whatever he tried to summon was losing height about halfway towards him, falling to the floor. She found herself beginning to drift off; daydreaming about Fleur's parting gift the day before. The memory of Fleur's tongue against her own would have made her shiver if she wasn't so tired.

She wondered what Fleur was doing at that moment. Was she still practicing whatever she had planned? Was she even still awake? She smiled lazily, glad that Harry couldn't see her; the thought of Fleur in her nightwear was oddly appealing. Hermione pictured her wearing silk pyjamas, perhaps the same pale blue as her uniform. In her mind's eye, Fleur wore that same smile she had just before they had kissed.

Her less than innocent thoughts were shattered when Harry's latest target overshot him and ended up flying into Hermione's lap.


	8. The First Task

**Harry Potter and all related characters and places are owned by JK Rowling - I just make them dance for my own amusement.**

**That's right - you've got another chapter - a longer one - a day after the last one. I just spoil you rotten, don't I?  
**

**~xxx~**

Hermione woke from an uneasy sleep, rubbing her eyes as she attempted to clear her vision. It had been a rough night; after staying up until about two in the morning, Harry had finally mastered summoning charms. However, that didn't quill the brunette's nervousness. No matter what spells Harry and Fleur armed themselves with, it didn't detract from the fact that they were about to face _dragons_. She had awoken several times during the night, each from various nightmares in which both her best friend and girlfriend were being burnt alive or ripped to pieces. Part of her wondered if it would have been better if she hadn't known about what the First Task involved, but on reflection she realised that she'd probably just pass out as soon as they were revealed.

She had wanted to meet Fleur before breakfast, and had gone down early to try and catch her. However, she was nowhere to be seen. By the time Fleur eventually arrived with the rest of the Beauxbatons, confident as always, the Hall was half full, making any meeting impossible. The lessons before lunchtime were oddly vague, seemingly over just as they had started. It was the first time Hermione could remember not really paying any attention in class; luckily everyone else seemed to be in the same position, and no one noticed.

When she and Harry walked into lunch, she immediately spotted Fleur again, and to her surprise, the French witch's eyes met hers. Hermione gave a small smile, but stopped when she saw Fleur's expression. The part-Veela was stony faced. After looking at Hermione for a few moments, she turned away. Hermione felt as though she had been punched in the gut, and walked to the Gryffindor table in a daze. She had a worrying feeling that she knew the reason for Fleur's behaviour; despite everything they had said, she couldn't blame Fleur for feeling angry that her own girlfriend wasn't able to give her words of encouragement before she was facing possible death. Feeling thoroughly guilty and miserable, she ate in silence, not daring to look up.

She didn't even noticed Professor McGonagall moving towards them until Harry got up. She snapped out of her daze, looking up at Harry's decidedly pale face. "Good luck, Harry. You'll be fine!" She only wished she believed her own words.

"Yeah," he croaked, before being lead out of the hall. Turning back in her seat, Hermione chanced a look at the Ravenclaw table, but saw that Fleur had disappeared. Looking back at the door, she could make out Madame Maxime's retreating form. She choked down the rest of her pumpkin juice, before getting to her feet and heading out into the Entrance Hall herself. It wasn't yet time for the students to head to the First Task, but she needed some air. She stepped into the courtyard, leaning against the wall in an attempt to calm her nerves. She had to stop herself from shouting when she felt a hand upon her shoulder, but it was only Ginny.

"You scared me half to death," she said shakily, barely holding on to her bag.

"Seems you're more nervous than Harry is," the redhead said. "I saw him walking down with McGonagall; he looked terrified. Fleur just looked angry." Hermione almost flinched, but Ginny didn't seem to notice. "Must be her way of showing nerves."

"Yeah, something like that," Hermione replied shakily.

At that moment, Professor Vector, Hermione's Arithmancy teacher, stepped out into the courtyard. "Will all students please make their way towards the forest," she instructed. "And then follow the path to the arena."

"Arena?" Ginny repeated. "You don't think they're fighting each other, do you?"

Hermione just shrugged. That would have been better; at least the Champions wouldn't be inclined to eat each other.

**~xxx~**

By the time they reached the large wooden structure, Ron, Fred and George had joined them. The twins appeared to be carrying a board that appeared to have betting odds on it; had Hermione been feeling less queasy, she would have had a go at them for it, but as it was, even walking in a straight line was proving difficult. The thought that Fleur was angry at her was eating away at her mind, and it was only getting worse. As they approached the steps up into the stands, she looked to the side and caught sight of the Champions tent, a short distance away through some trees. She glanced up at the Weasleys, and then back at the tent. She grabbed Ginny's hand to stop her.

"I'll be up in a minute," she said quickly, before dashing off.

As she neared the tent, she mentally cursed herself for her rash decision. What exactly was she planning to do? Run in there and kiss Fleur? Hardly. But she was already on her way, and as she reached the edge of the large tent, she pressed her ear against the canvas, trying to catch any sound from within. She could hear Dumbledore's voice from the arena, followed by what sounded like a roar. She shuddered, but still couldn't hear anything from within the tent itself. She squinted through the material, and could vaguely make out the shape of someone pacing near the edge. Judging by the person's height, it had to be Harry; the other three Champions were all taller.

"Psst," she hissed through a gap. "Harry?" There was a pause, before she saw the silhouette darken as the person drew closer to her. "Is that you?"

"Yeah," he replied in a whisper.

"How are you feeling?" she asked, as if simply greeting him at the start of the day.

"Been better," he replied, his voice unusually high.

Without thinking, she dived through the gap in the canvas and embraced him tightly. He returned in gingerly, clearly surprised. Hermione looked up after a moment, over Harry's shoulder, and was met with a pair of blue eyes, glaring in her direction. At that point, she decided; she didn't care what the others thought. She made to pull away from Harry, and the beginnings of a smile appeared on the brunette's face; she was going to kiss her girlfriend in front of the other Champions.

Or at least she would have done if she hadn't been interrupted by a bright flash from the other side of the tent. They both turned to the entrance, and saw Rita Skeeter standing there, a man holding a camera behind her. Hermione noticed the Quick-Quotes Quill hovering dangerously beside the woman.

"Young love!" she declared happily, stepping into the tent and clapping her hands together. "How…stirring!" Harry and Hermione parted quickly, glaring at her in equal measure at the reporter. "If everything goes…unfortunately, today, you two may even make the front page!" she continued happily. The acid green quill was positively dancing over the notepad.

"You have no business here," Krum spoke up, slouching towards Skeeter. "This tent is for Champions." He glanced at Hermione. "And friends."

The reporter searched for a response for a moment, before simply shrugging and flashing a toothy smile. "No matter," she said pleasantly. "We've…ah…got what we wanted." She turned on her heel, and after another photograph was taken, she and her photographer left.

Hermione and Harry glanced at each other, unified in their growing hatred for the awful woman. Hermione looked over at Fleur's area, but saw that she French witch had disappeared behind a curtain, hidden from view. The bushy haired girl had little time to dwell on this however, as a voice interrupted her thoughts.

"Good day champions!" they all turned, to see Ludo Bagman bounding into the tent, grinning as always, still wearing his old black and yellow Wimbourne Wasps robes. Behind him, Dumbledore, Karkaroff, Madame Maxime, Barty Crouch and Mr Filch followed.

"Gather round, please," Dumbledore said; his voice was excited, but not a patch on Bagman. The Champions did as instructed; Fleur appeared from behind the curtain, but made no attempt at eye contact with Hermione. "You've waited, you've wondered, and at last the moment has arrived. The moment only four of you can fully appreciate-" He did a double take, and spotted Hermione. "What are you doing here Miss Granger?"

"Oh…um…sorry…" she stammered. She chanced a last look at Fleur, trying to convey how much she wished she could be there for her. "I'll just go…" She stepped back, before turning and leaving through the gap she had arrived from. Once outside, she paused for a moment, gathering her thoughts.

"Champions, in a circle if you please," Ludo Bagman's voice continued. "From this bag you will each select a small model of the thing you are about to face! There are different…er…varieties, you see." Hermione really needed to get going, but she couldn't help but listen a little longer. "And I have to tell you something else too…ah, yes…your task is to _collect the Golden Egg!_" She had been right – the dragons _were_ protecting something. She breathed a small sigh of relief; at least both Fleur and Harry had practiced with this in mind. It was a small comfort, but it was better than nothing.

Adjusting her scarf slightly, she headed back the way she had come. By now she couldn't see anyone else coming down from the castle, and quickly made her way up the wooden stairs into the noisy stands. She quickly located where the majority of the Gryffindors had placed themselves, and headed over to join the Weasleys. Ginny looked concerned.

"You look awful," she said. Hermione gave a nervous smile.

"It's nothing," she lied. It was quite clear that Ginny didn't believe her, but a crowded stadium was hardly the place for this conversation. She just nodded and turned back to the rocky arena, awaiting the start of the task. As if in response, a cannon shot sounded, and the already noisy crowd erupted into applause and cheers.

At the far end of the arena, opposite the side behind which sat the Champions' tent, a large steel gate slowly opened. Everyone craned their necks to see what was happening, and a few moments later, a large silvery-blue scaled head moved into view. The Swedish Short-Snout gave a roar as it stepped fully into the arena, and let loose a small burst of brilliant blue flame, gaining a favourable reaction from the spectators.

"Look, it's Charlie!" shouted Ron, pointing. Down in the arena, a redheaded man could be seen entering from a door somewhere between the dragon's entrance and the Champions'. He pointed his wand, and levitated a chain that was hanging loosely from the dragon's neck. He quickly moved the end of the chain to the centre of the rocky arena, before locking it into a large ring that was bolted into the ground. His task complete, Charlie gave a brief wave to the crowd, before disappearing back through the door.

Now that the dragon was secure, attention turned to the entrance opposite the dragon. A few moments later, Cedric Diggory stepped into view, looking up nervously at those watching. As he stepped further into the arena, facing the dragon, the cheering subsided, awaiting the task to begin.

**~xxx~**

About ten minutes later, Hermione's heart was in her throat. Fleur had been announced as the next competitor. Cedric's performance had had the spectators actually laughing, especially when one of the dragon's handlers had been tasked with retrieving the dog the Champion had transfigured a rock into. However, the arena was now cleared, and Hermione was pretty sure she was about to have some sort of seizure. Ginny, noticing this, placed a comforting hand on her shoulder.

"She'll do fine," she whispered. "You'll see."

Hermione nodded weakly, her eyes fixed upon the door Fleur would enter from. She was so transfixed that she didn't even notice the Common Welsh Green enter the arena until it's chain was locked in place and it let out a roar. She jumped in her seat, and turned to the dragon. Unlike Cedric's, the dark green beast that now occupied the arena had four legs, in addition to it's wings, rather than two. According to her research, this made it all the more dangerous on land. Given that all of the dragons' ability to fly was reduced by the chain, this normally subdued creature could easily prove the most deadly.

Eventually, despite Hermione's silent hope that the moment would never come, Fleur Delacour stepped out into the arena. The cheer was understandably quieter than Cedric's, but was still deafening. As it died down, Hermione resigned herself to the events that were about to unfold.

Fleur stepped carefully over the rocky surface, never taking her eyes off of the dragon. The Welsh Green eyed her up, not daring to move from it's eggs. Until suddenly, without warning, it let loose two narrow jets of flame. Fleur dived to the side, hitting the ground hard, but avoiding the fire.

"That was a close one!" Ludo Bagman's voice echoed.

Fleur rolled onto her back, just in time to see the dragon rear up onto it's hind legs, before diving straight at her. The colossal beast impacted against the rocks with such force that several were smashed into little more than gravel. The blonde was knocked forwards, again ending up on the ground and letting out a surprisingly loud grunt. She shook her head, gritted her teeth, and straightened up, spinning around to face the dragon, which was bearing down upon her.

"She's going to have to move fast!"

Fleur jumped up onto the nearest rock, climbing up to the higher ground. The Welsh Green watched her carefully for a moment, before lunging again. This time, it missed completely, and Fleur remained standing, sprinting into the centre of the arena. She glanced over her shoulder; she was now between the dragon and it's eggs, but the beast was still more than capable of reaching her before she reached her goal. Instead, she took off to one side, the dragon pursuing. Fleur ran up the largest rock, jutting upwards diagonally. Two more jets of fire came her way, and just before they reached her, she dived off of the rock. The flames came so close that it was almost unbelievable that her ponytail hadn't been set alight. She came crashing down into the waterlogged lower levels of the arena, grimacing as she forced herself back onto her feet.

"I don't believe it!" Bagman continued. "She should have broken every bone in her body with that jump! Remarkable athletic ability from Miss Delacour!"

She continued to run through the narrow canyon, mindful of the roars she could hear from above. Just as she reached the end of the gorge, she heard the telltale whoosh behind her, and scrambled up the edge, just in time to dodge another blast of fire.

"Good lord, I thought she'd had it then!"

She skidded to a halt behind a rock, intentionally sliding onto her back to keep out of sight. She peered round from behind her cover, and saw that the dragon seemed confused as to where it's quarry had gone. As it's flames had cleared, it must have missed her hiding. Seizing the moment, she rolled out from behind the rock, pulled out her wand.

"_Metrepordom_!" she bellowed. Silvery white light erupted from her wand, circling the dragon for a moment before flying straight into it's head. It stumbled to the side, scraping the tall stone edge of the arena. It turned towards her, it's eyes wide with rage. However, as it stepped forward, it stumbled, and fell. The entire stadium seemed to shake as the great beast came crashing down. Wasting no time, Fleur sprinted across the rocks, leaping back over the now scorched canyon. She dived for the golden egg, grabbing it and clutching it to her chest.

"She has the egg!" Bagman declared.

The stands erupted into applause and cheers. Fleur grinned, and breathed a sigh of relief.

"Fleur, look out!" Amidst the cheers, Hermione's shout went unnoticed. The dragon, though apparently asleep, flared it's nostrils, sending a jet of flame straight at Fleur. She cursed in French, diving to the side as fast as she could. Unfortunately, her reflexes finally failed her, and as she roughly hit a nearby rock, it was with her sleeve on fire. She quickly extinguished the flames, but gritted her teeth; clearly the damage had been done.

The cannon fired again, signalling the completion of the task. Instantly, several dragon handlers made their way into the arena to deal with the Welsh Green, which was now fast asleep. Fleur, golden egg still clutched under her left arm, struggled to her feet, limping towards the exit, to the sound of thunderous applause.

Hermione sat with a huge grin plastered across her face, which didn't go unnoticed by Ginny.

"Told you," the redhead said, still applauding.

**~xxx~**

"Harry, you were brilliant!" Hermione said happily, grinning widely. "You were amazing, you really were!" She had ambushed Harry as soon as he had tried to leave the first-aid tent.

The dark haired boy looked shaken, but nodded in thanks. He looked over Hermione's shoulder, where Ron was standing sheepishly, looking rather pale.

"Harry," the redhead said. "Whoever put your name in that Goblet…I…I reckon they're trying to do you in!"

"Caught on, have you?" Harry replied, clearly not quite sure if he should forgive his friend. Hermione looked nervous again, her eyes flitting between the two of them. Ron opened his mouth, but Harry cut him off. "It's okay, forget it."

"No, I shouldn't've-"

"_Forget it."_

Hermione smiled warmly, glad that things were back to normal. And then she mentally slapped herself; of course they weren't. She looked past the two friends, and saw the only other person she wanted to see. Fleur was seated on one of the beds, one leg up on it, the other bent and touching the ground. From what Hermione could tell, the jacket Fleur had worn had been removed, her stomach and right arm had been bandaged, and then the jacket had been placed loosely over her shoulders again. She looked up and saw Hermione standing there, looking rather lost.

The brunette gave a tiny smile, but Fleur's expression remained neutral. At that moment, Madam Pomfrey bustled over, carrying a bottle of purple liquid that she had just administered to Cedric. "How does your arm feel now, Miss Delacour?" she asked.

"I am fine," Fleur replied succinctly, swinging her other leg off of the bed, so both were on the ground. Madam Pomfrey hovered.

"You shouldn't strain yourself," she said. "You had a lot of fractured bones, and they're always worse than breaks. I can only do so much." She pointed at Fleur's bandaged arm. "And you should be especially careful with that arm, those burns-"

"J'ai dit que j'étais fin!" Fleur snapped, grabbing her egg and storming out. Hermione could feel tears welling up, but forced herself to remain composed. She turned back to her friends.

"What's wrong with her?" Harry asked. Ron shrugged.

"Probably angry that Karkaroff gave her such a low score," he said. "She got her sleeve set on fire, but _after _she'd got the egg. Doesn't matter though; Dumbledore, Maxime and Bagman gave her good marks. She's in first place by one point, but I reckon that's just because of all her jumping around." He was starting to go into one of his 'Fleur trances'. "She only used one bit of magic, but she's really athletic, she was-"

"That's enough, Ronald," Hermione snapped. "Harry needs to go get his score."

"Oh right, yeah," Ron grinned. "C'mon!"

Hermione followed them, Fleur's expression still etched into her memory. It had been cold; emotionless. The French witch had looked at Hermione as if she was no one. And it hurt. She still couldn't bring herself to feel anything other than guilt; Fleur had performed exceedingly well, succeeded in the task, been injured – and all Hermione could do was stand around. If their roles were reversed, she was pretty sure that she would be feeling rather bitter about the whole situation.

She sighed; at least Harry and Ron were best friends again, that was one less thing to worry about. Now all she had to do was somehow fix things with Fleur.

**~xxx~**

**This chapter is pretty much a model for how I like to write HP fiction - merging the book and movieverses together to include as much content as possible. You have Hermione turning up in the tent, the more action-packed tasks, and Fleur's movie task outfit, but at the same time Ludo Bagman is here, and Harry and Ron make up in the first-aid tent. Tell me what you think about how well I merged everything together!**


	9. Ignite

**Harry Potter and all related characters and places are owned by JK Rowling - I just make them dance for my own amusement.**

**~xxx~**

Hermione hadn't slept well that night, still haunted by the image of Fleur's eyes, boring into hers. She wanted to just crawl into bed and never come out, she was so angry with herself for making Fleur feel this way. She had hoped that after the First Task, she would have found the courage to speak to Fleur openly, but the blonde's reaction in the first-aid tent had smashed that idea. She was now actually starting to worry that Fleur may consider leaving her if they weren't able to be seen together openly, something which she had promised herself she wouldn't start thinking. She had read one too many bad romance novels as a child and was well aware that in real life, a great deal of the melodrama is missing. Still, it didn't stop those fears being played out in her nightmares, with Fleur shouting insults at her as she walked out of her life for good.

She hadn't even had the chance to talk to Ginny yet; the Common Room had been filled until the early hours with people celebrating Harry's performance. The next day, Hermione had regained the ability to talk properly. Something which she was making Harry and Ron all-too aware of.

"Look at this!" she shouted at breakfast, slamming the Daily Prophet down upon the table. "I can't believe it, she's done it again!" She turned to the paper and began to read. _"Miss Granger, a plain but ambitious girl seems to be developing a taste for famous wizards. Her latest prey, sources report, is no other than the Bulgarian Bonbon - Victor Krum. No word yet on how Harry Potter is taking this latest emotional blow."_

Harry couldn't help but smile. "Well, no offense Hermione, but I'm actually glad it's not me she's going after for once," he said, tucking into his cereal. Ron chuckled. Hermione just rolled her eyes and folded the paper up.

"This is ridiculous," she snapped. "There should be people regulating this rubbish."

"There are," Ron said, his mouth full of toast. "Dad has some friends that work for the Prophet. But that woman's got a reputation – everyone's afraid of her digging up some sort of secret about them if they try to do anything about what she writes."

Hermione wished she could tell them the real reason that these articles made her so angry, but it was a pretty bad point to tell them, especially not knowing what their response would be like. If she was going to drop the bombshell about her and Fleur, she wanted to have enjoyed at least a short period of peace before she did it. Right now her main priority was making sure there still was a 'her and Fleur'. She had intentionally sat with her back to the Ravenclaw table that morning. She knew it would look as though she was giving Fleur the cold shoulder, but she couldn't handle looking at her at the moment. She didn't want to see that stony expression again.

**~xxx~**

A few days later, and Hermione still hadn't had a chance to talk to Fleur. It was now December, and she had seen her plenty of times, but she was always surrounded by other Beauxbatons girls. It was almost as if the part-Veela was daring Hermione to talk to her in front of others, though she doubted Fleur would be that malicious. It was more likely that Fleur simply didn't want to talk to Hermione, and knew that the young Gryffindor wouldn't come near her with others watching. At this point she just wanted to talk to Fleur about anything; she didn't even know if the French witch considered them a couple anymore, considering it had been about a week since they had spoken and in that time, all that had been exchanged between them were confused looks from Hermione and glares from Fleur.

She sighed and glanced over at Harry and Ron, who were busying themselves with a swordfight with two of Fred and George's fake wands. They had just finished Transfiguration, and were waiting to be let out, when Professor McGonagall cleared her throat loudly.

"Potter! Weasley! _Will you pay attention?"_ The pair looked up, to find the teacher standing with a rather irritated expression upon her face. "Now Potter and Weasley have been kind enough to act their age, I have something to say to you all," she said, stepping back towards her desk, upon which sat a cage full of recently transfigured guinea-pigs. "The Yule Ball is approaching; a traditional part of the Triwizard Tournament and an opportunity for us to socialise with our foreign guests." Hermione hoped no one had seen her twitch. "Now, the Ball is only open to Fourth Years and above," McGonagall continued. "Although you may invite a younger student if you wish. Dress robes will be worn, and the Ball will start at eight o'clock on Christmas Day, finishing at midnight, in the Great Hall."

McGonagall paced back between the tables, eying the students warily. "Now then, the Yule Ball is of course a chance for us to…ah…let our hair down." Hermione glanced over at Lavender Brown, who was attempting to stifle her giggles. The brunette didn't find any of this remotely funny. "But that does not mean that we will be relaxing the standards of behaviour we expect from Hogwarts students," McGonagall said sharply, her eyes lingering on several people in particular. "I will be most seriously displeased if a Gryffindor student embarrasses the school in any way."

Hermione was thankful for the bell; all this talk of the Ball was making her skin crawl. As she packed her things back into her bag, her mind was racing; what did the Ball mean for her and Fleur? Would Fleur want to go with her? Would turning her down the sake of secrecy finally drive the part-Veela away? Feeling rather sick, she barely registered Harry being told to remain behind, and all but ran from the room, hoping to escape the noisy crowd of students, all of them discussing the Ball.

She could hear Ron calling her name, but ignored him; she just wanted to be alone for a while. She turned a corner and down the empty corridor, away from the throng of students making their way out into the courtyard. She couldn't handle this; she needed to talk to Fleur. Even if the French witch was avoiding her because of Hermione's desire to keep their relationship secret, they needed to talk about the Ball.

Her mind made up, she broke into a run, her footfalls echoing down the deserted corridor. She turned the next corner, and found herself crashing straight into someone walking the other way. They both went flying to the ground, as did Hermione's book bag. The person she had hit cried out, but Hermione was only dimly aware of it, having hit her head against the stone floor. She grimaced, pushing herself up onto her knees. And found herself face to face with her bag. The person she had bumped into was already on their feet, holding Hermione's bag out for her. She looked up, and for some reason, she wasn't surprised to see a pair of startling blue eyes looking down at her.

"Oh…" was all she could manage, her throat tightening at the sight of the now dishevelled looking blonde.

"Are you alright?" Fleur asked rather flatly.

"I…I'm fine…" Hermione said, slowly rising to her feet. "I'm sorry, I'm really sorry, I didn't see…"

"Clearly," came the succinct reply.

"Are you okay? Are you still wearing those bandages?"

"I am fine, and oui, I am still wearing zem," Fleur replied. Hermione took her bag, and hung it back over her shoulder.

"Fleur, I…we need to talk," Hermione said quietly. "Please."

"What is it you want to talk about?" the French witch asked, her voice still devoid of any real emotion.

"Fleur, why are you avoiding me?" Hermione pleaded, her breathing still laboured.

"Isn't zat what you wanted?" Fleur countered. "You wanted no one to know of our relationship."

"But we still talked before…" Hermione took a tentative step forwards. "You said you were okay with us keeping it hidden."

"I know what I said, 'Ermione," Fleur replied waspishly. "I know I said I was alright wiz it, but…" She looked away, and her guard seemed to drop slightly. "I am too selfish, 'Ermione."

"What?" the brunette frowned. "You're not selfish, you're-"

"I am," Fleur stated defiantly. "I zought I could accept keeping it secret; zat it would not bother me." She turned back to Hermione, and the younger girl was aghast to find that Fleur seemed to be on the verge of tears. "But I can't…I can't live zis lie." She swallowed. "I love you, 'Ermione, and I do not care 'oo knows." She reached up with a shaking hand, and cupped the brunette's cheek. "And I 'ate that I cannot show it. All I want is to hold your 'and, to spend time wiz you and your friends, is zat really too much to ask?"

"No, it's not," Hermione replied, horrified by Fleur's reaction. "I…you know, for the first time, I don't think I belong in Gryffindor. I'm a coward; a complete and utter coward."

"'Ermione, you are not-"

"But I am!" the younger witch shouted. "It shouldn't bother me, it's just…" She looked away. "…it's too much; I've never been with someone…let alone a girl…and you're not just any girl…"

"It doesn't matter what ze ozers zink!" Fleur snapped, her voice cracking. "Do you 'ave any idea 'ow awful it was after ze First Task? Watching you congratulate 'Arry like zat, while I get noz'ing at all!"

"Fleur, please listen-"

"Non, you listen!" the part-Veela continued. "I told you; I am selfish; I am_ jealous!_ I wish I could bottle up my emotions, as you clearly can, but I cannot." By this point, the tears were flowing freely down her cheeks. "It would be so much easier if I could keep up zis façade, but I am not perfect, and I am most certainly not a saint. Do you 'ave any idea 'ow angry I get when I see you across ze 'all?"

"Fleur, I…I…" Unable to hold them back any longer, Hermione burst into tears. In an instant, Fleur's arms were around her, holding her firmly. She didn't say anything, and instead simply pressed her face into Hermione's bushy hair.

"Don't cry, mon amour," she said eventually. "Please."

"You're crying too," Hermione said, giving a tiny smile. Fleur laughed, tightening her hold on the other girl. They stayed like that for a few minutes, just holding each other, neither daring to speak. Hermione was dimly aware that anyone could find them like this, but for once she didn't care. After the time apart, it felt so good to hold Fleur against her again.

"Come to ze Ball wiz me," Fleur said quietly. Hermione looked up; the French witch's expression was unreadable again. The brunette opened her mouth to respond, but no sound came out. She just stood there, unable to find words with which to respond. Fleur sighed, and slowly withdrew her arms. She looked down at Hermione, her expression almost one of pity. Hermione pleaded with herself; desperate to respond, but still found herself incapable.

Without a word, Fleur looked away, and began walking down the corridor. Hermione just stood there, still looking at the spot the other girl had been standing in, tears still running down he cheeks.

**~xxx~**

"I thought you'd be here."

Hermione looked up. Ginny Weasley stood in the portrait hole, carrying a bowl of soup. Hermione had run straight to the Common Room after her encounter with Fleur; correctly predicting that most people would have headed down for dinner by the time she got there. She was sat on the rug in front of the fireplace, resting her back against the settee.

"I thought you were with Fleur, but she was at dinner, so…" The redhead stepped closer, and sat on the settee, placing the soup on the floor beside Hermione. "What happened, Hermione? You look awful."

"I am…" Hermione started, her voice sounding thoroughly broken. "…so tired, Ginny." She looked up, her eyes red and swollen. "…I…I don't know why I feel like this," she continued, looking back to the fire. "Why am I so afraid of what people will think?"

"You've got me there," Ginny replied, shrugging. "You always used to mock people that cared about how they were seen by others."

"I know…" the brunette mused. She looked to her side, and placed the bowl in her lap. "Thank you." She effortlessly transfigured a nearby quill into a spoon, and slowly began eating.

"So, what happened?" the younger girl pressed, leaning forwards.

"I didn't say anything 'happened'," Hermione replied, but Ginny just rolled her eyes.

"You didn't have to," she said. "You'd hardly hide yourself up here for no reason."

"Fleur asked me to the Ball," the brunette said quickly, her voice rising in pitch slightly.

"Ah," Ginny said simply, sitting back. "And? What did you do?"

Hermione took a deep breath. "I stood there with my mouth hanging open like an idiot," she said matter-of-factly, turning to Ginny. "That's what I did."

"Merlin's beard, Hermione, what's happened to you?" Ginny asked incredulously. "This isn't like you." She leant forwards again. "You used to be a lion! Just what is it about Fleur that's turned you into a wilting flower, hm?"

"It's not Fleur," Hermione said. "Not entirely…" She sighed, and swallowed another spoonful of soup. "It's just…I'm not ready to have so many people prying into my private life. Fleur's as good as a celebrity, and everyone thinks I've been involved with both Harry and Krum thanks to that awful Skeeter woman. And there is the slight issue that we're both girls."

"What issue?" Ginny asked, raising an eyebrow. "I know muggles can sometimes be a little bit funny about it, but I haven't met a single witch or wizard who saw it as unusual." She paused, giving Hermione a smile. "Well, Skeeter might try to make it out to be a big thing, but no one will care."

"That still doesn't change the fact that so many people will know…" Hermione said.

"Oh come on Hermione!" the redhead snapped. "You're a Gryffindor! Why are you cowering like a little girl?" Hermione remained silent, so Ginny continued. "I know you probably feel like you're being forced to shout it from the rooftops; I know I'd be nervous about so many people knowing who I was dating, but _come on_." She slid herself onto the floor beside Hermione, kneeling next to her. "Look, answer me this: do you love Fleur?"

"Yes," she replied, without question. Ginny nodded.

"And what's more important to you; being with her for as long as you can, or what a few people may think when they read the Prophet at breakfast?" Ginny asked, shaking her head. "No matter what the reaction, good or bad, it'll be old news within a week. And then, after that, you can be with Fleur openly, and no one will care."

"I…I think…" Hermione slowly got to her feet. Ginny looked up expectantly at her. "I need some time alone. I…I'll talk to you later…" She grabbed her shoes and stepped towards the portrait hole. "Thanks for the soup." And with that, she left, leaving Ginny very puzzled by her sudden exit.

**~xxx~**

Living up to her reputation, Hermione had made her way to the library. As most of the students were having dinner, it was deserted. Hermione didn't know what exactly she planned to do there, but she desperately needed time alone to think about all this. Remembering Ginny's words – and some of her own fears – she began scanning the bookcases. She wondered what books, if any, the Hogwarts library would have on homosexuality in the wizarding world. She searched for ten minutes, but even with her substantial skill at sorting through the various old tomes, she could find nothing.

She located a section that seemed to be themed around relationships, but nothing on the topic she was searching for. She had been ready to abandon her search and bury herself in a transfiguration Manuel, when something caught her eye.

'_Sirens of Love: A History and Discussion of Veela Relationships'_

Unable to help herself, Hermione reached for the book, and seated herself at a nearby table. She checked her watch, and saw that dinner was nearly over. She bit her lip; checking this book out of the library would be rather suspicious, and she at least wanted to see Harry and Ron before bed, to offer some reason for missing the feast. Deciding to skim the book, she opened it and flicked past the first few pages, heading straight for the introduction. She ended up a couple of pages in, but decided to read from there anyway.

'_A common misconception that is still often touted as fact is that Veela mate for life, with some extreme versions of the rumour even implying that the Veela will die if she cannot be with her true love. While there is no truth to this, it has been observed that many Veela form stronger than normal attachments to their lovers, and often become incredibly possessive. Furthermore, there are indeed some cases where rejected Veela will never enter into a relationship again, unable to accept the loss of their past love.'_

Hermione frowned. Would that happen to Fleur? No, Fleur was far too rational for that. And besides, despite how much Hermione loved the French witch, she wasn't going to be emotionally blackmailed into doing something she didn't want to. Still, the image of Fleur, alone for the rest of her life, was not a pleasant one, and not one she wanted to see become a reality. She sighed, and closed the book, partially regretting finding it in the first place. Caught up in her thoughts, she didn't notice the person approaching her from behind, until they spoke.

"Excuse me."

Hermione nearly jumped out of her skin. She turned her head so quickly that she was positive it would be sore later, and found herself face to face with a rather unexpected person; Viktor Krum.

"I am sorry. I did not mean to startle you," he said. He gave a small smile, looking almost sheepish. Hermione relaxed, and let out a deep breath.

"It's alright," she replied, smiling in return. "I was miles away. What can I do for you?"

"I have been vanting to ask you for a vile now," he began. "It is vhy I have been in the library so much lately." Hermione frowned slightly. Was he about to do what she thought he was?

"What did you want to ask?"

"I vas vanting to know if you vould like to go to the Ball vith me," he said, still looking a tad nervous. Hermione's eyes widened, though she had been expecting it.

"Oh…" She smiled apologetically; he seemed rather sweet in person. But his question had stirred something deep inside her, and it was already in full control. "I'm sorry, Viktor, but I'm already going with someone."

"Ah," he replied simply. He looked put out for a moment. "Forgive me. It is your friend Harry Potter, I assume?"

"No…" Hermione said, her voice rather quiet. But she blinked, and sat up straighter. "No. I am going with Fleur Delacour."

**~xxx~**

By the time Hermione had reached the Entrance Hall, the feast had already finished. Students were pouring out, talking noisily as they headed up to bed. From the snippets of conversation she caught, Hermione could tell that the Yule Ball was the main topic of discussion. Even a group of Second Years that she passed seemed to be talking about it; discussing who they knew in the higher years that could take them. Quickly consumed by the throng, Hermione spotted Harry leaving the Great hall. She made a bee-line for him, and grabbed him by the wrist, dragging him to one side.

"Hermione!" he breathed, clearly taken by surprise. "What are you doing here? Why weren't you at dinner?"

"Never mind that," she replied excitedly, a big grin plastered across her face. "Harry, Viktor Krum just asked me to the Ball! And I said no!" She laughed, before stepping backwards and rejoining the crowd. "Don't tell Ron!"

Harry just stared for a moment, looking as though he had just been stunned. Ron made his way through the crowd, stopping at Harry's side. "What's up, mate?" he asked. "You look like you've seen a ghost."

"What?" Harry blinked. "No, no I'm fine. Just zoned out for a second." Ron just grinned.

"Bet you saw Cho, didn't you?"

"Oh shut it."

**~xxx~**

Hermione raced across the grounds, not caring that in the snowy conditions, her robes were hardly appropriate; she was too excited to feel cold. Somehow she managed to make her way down the sloping ground without sliding over, and quickly approached the Beauxbatons carriage. The visiting students always left dinner early, as to avoid the crowds; that explained why Viktor had arrived in the library when he did. She had seen the last of the French students entering the carriage just as she had left the Entrance Courtyard, and knew that her goal lay within.

By the time she reached the powder-blue carriage, she was out of breath, and had an awful cramp in her side, but she didn't care. After briefly pausing to compose herself, steadying herself against one of the carriage's huge golden wheels, she headed over to the door. She made her way up the steps, and knocking firmly against the door. She was buzzing; a bizarre energy having overtaken her. She had to consciously stop herself from smiling like an idiot, and ran her fingers through her hair for a moment, trying her best to not look dishevelled. Eventually, the door opened, and a dark haired Beauxbatons girl answered it.

"Oui?" she asked, sounding rather uninterested.

"Oh, erm…" In her hurry, she hadn't thought of what exactly to say. "I…I was sent by Professor McGonagall, she has a message for Fleur." The girl just looked down her nose at Hermione, not even acknowledging she had heard. Giving her the benefit of the doubt, the brunette realised that this girl may not understand English. "I need to speak to Fleur Delacour." This time she spoke slower, emphasising her words.

The French girl just flared her nostrils, before stepping back and turning her head to the side. "Fleur, il y a une petite fille ici pour vous voir!" Despite her adrenaline-fuelled impatience, Hermione was well aware that she had just been referred to as a 'little girl.' The Beauxbatons student stepped back, and for a moment Hermione looked puzzled.

"Come in," the girl ordered. Hermione's eyes narrowed for a moment; clearly she did speak English. Still, she had more important things to worry about. She stepped through the doorway, and the girl closed the door. Hermione looked around; they appeared to be standing in…a hallway? So _that_ was it; the carriage was larger on the inside than the outside.

She was led through into a brightly lit room. A large table was situated in the middle of it, at which a couple of students were sat talking. Hermione looked up, and saw that a balcony overlooked the room. There were several doors up there, and she assumed each led to the sleeping quarters. The entire room seemed to be covered in gold; almost everything was shining brightly in the candlelight. Mesmerised by the carriage's interior, Hermione hadn't even noticed that Fleur had been there the whole time, standing at the bottom of a staircase that led up to the balcony. She looked rather stern, but Hermione ignored it.

The blonde stepped over, and eyed Hermione warily. "Elle a un message pour vous," the girl that had let Hermione in said, and Fleur nodded. She turned back to Hermione.

"Well?" she asked icily, folding her hands behind her back. "What is your message?"

"Yes," Hermione said simply, breaking into a smile again. Fleur pulled her head back slightly, brow furrowed.

"What?"

"My answer is yes," the brunette continued. "I've been a complete and utter idiot. I love you, and of course I will go to the Ball with you."

"Are you s-" But before she could finish, Hermione's arms had launched themselves around her, and the younger witch's lips crashed hungrily into her own. A few of the nearby girls gasped, the loudest of which was the dark-haired snobbish one. For a split second, Hermione panicked; what if it was too late, what if Fleur rejected her anyway?

Her fears were quickly quashed however, when the blonde returned the embrace, kissing back with equal fervour. Breathing heavily, they pulled apart, and rested their foreheads against one another's.

"I love you…I love you…" Hermione repeated, her eyes shining. For the first time since their last meeting before the First Task, Fleur smiled warmly at her.

"Je t'aime, 'Ermione," the blonde replied, placing a gentler kiss upon Hermione's lips.

No turning back.


	10. Penultimate

**Harry Potter and all related characters and places are owned by JK Rowling - I just make them dance for my own amusement.**

**~xxx~**

When Hermione eventually reached the portrait of the Fat Lady that night, she had to stop to compose herself. She couldn't be sure, but she was pretty certain that she had been grinning like a madwoman on her entire trip back up to the castle. She straightened her robes and pulled her fingers through her messy hair, getting an odd look from the Fat Lady herself. Hermione gave the password and stepped quickly through the portrait hole.

The Common Room was relatively quiet; most of the seats were empty, and only a few people were still up. Harry and Ron were seated on the settee in front of the fire, and both looked up when she entered.

"_There_ you are!" said Ron, scrambling to his feet. "Where've you been?"

"I don't think that's any of your business, Ronald," Hermione said defensively.

"I'm just saying," he said, shrugging. "You keep missing dinner. Not holding secret spew meetings, are you?"

"Of course I'm not," the brunette snapped. "And for the hundredth time, it's S.P.E.W." Ron just rolled his eyes and sat back down. Hermione dumped her book bag beside the settee and sat between her friends. "If you must know, I was in the library." Well, it was partially true. "Professor Vector set a rather long essay over Christmas and I decided to get it out of the way in one go."

"Barking, you are," Ron replied.

"Well I suppose you two will be staying up all night the day before term starts again getting _your_ homework done," she said. "Just like last time."

"Always worked before," Harry added, smirking. Hermione just shook her head and rolled her eyes. At that moment, Ginny appeared and stood beside them.

"Hermione, can I borrow you for a moment?" she asked. Hermione nodded and got to her feet, grabbing her bag.

"I think I'll head up to bed anyway after this," she said to Harry and Ron. "See you tomorrow."

"Night," Harry replied, watching curiously as Ginny lead Hermione up the stairs to the dormitories. They stopped in the narrow dimly lit corridor that housed the doors to each year's room. Ginny looked rather excited.

"Well?" she prompted in a whisper. Hermione remained aloof.

"Well what?" she asked. The redhead just rolled her eyes and shook her head.

"Come off it, Hermione," she said. "I saw you out the window grinning like an idiot. Now don't tell me you went all the way down there to talk to Hagrid."

"Alright," the brunette held her hands up in defeat, giving a small smile. "We made up. Fleur and I are going to the Ball." Ginny squealed and pulled Hermione into a tight hug. The brunette had to steady herself against the wall; the youngest Weasley certainly seemed excited.

"That's brilliant!" she said, pulling away. "Oh you have no idea how annoying you've been lately!"

"Thanks…I think…" Hermione said warily. "I suppose there's a backhanded compliment in there somewhere."

"You know what I mean!" the redhead replied, waving her hand. "Oh Hermione, I'm so happy for you."

"Honestly, Ginny, I'm starting to think you're more pleased than I am," Hermione said with a smirk. "Anyway, I'm going to turn in."

"Wait, what about Ron and Harry?" Ginny asked. "What do I tell them?"

"Nothing," the bushy-haired girl replied. "Fleur and I agreed that the Ball is the best place to…well, I suppose we're coming out really, aren't we?"

As she said the words, Hermione felt nothing but elation. It was almost as if the actual act of revealing their relationship was just an afterthought, and the fact that she had decided to be open about it was the main reason to be pleased. After a few more minutes talking, Ginny headed back downstairs and Hermione entered the dormitory. Lavender Brown and Fay Dunbar were already asleep, and Hermione had to restrain herself from practically skipping to her own bed. She allowed herself to fall back onto her four-poster, and stared up absent-mindedly at the top of it.

She wondered for a moment what the other girls in her dormitory would think when they knew she was going out with a girl. Would they be afraid that Hermione would try to jump them in the middle of the night? She chuckled quietly to herself and prepared for bed, wondering just how on Earth she had ever been afraid of this.

**~xxx~**

The next week passed by rather uneventfully. As Hogwarts neared the end of term, the professors seemed to be losing more and more control over the students. Professor Flitwick clearly relished it, and had devised a series of games using some of the spells they had learnt since the start of term. However, unlike the diminutive Charms teacher, who had a knack for making students _want_ to learn, others such as Moody and McGonagall were having none of it. Hermione hadn't spoken to Fleur since their reconciliation in the carriage, but it seemed to be intentional. The one time they had looked at each other across the hall, Fleur had looked away quickly, an uncharacteristically goofy grin on her elegant face.

It turned into a game of sorts; actively avoiding each other. Hermione was starting to see why married couples kept away from each other prior to their weddings. Her improved mood hadn't gone unnoticed; Ginny seemed pleased, at least. Harry and Ron just assumed Hermione was 'being a girl', and left it at that. They had further stuck their proverbial feet in it after their conversation about potential partners for the Ball; leading to Hermione storming up to bed after Ron admitted he would go with an attractive girl even if she was horrible. She supposed some would think that of her, when she and Fleur came out; well, those that could get past the fact that Hermione Granger and Fleur Delacour were interested in girls.

Having said that, she still couldn't work out exactly what she 'was'. She was able to appreciate good looks from both genders, but still found the only person she felt really attracted to was Fleur. She and Ginny had actually stayed up late one night, with the redhead listing off names of boys and girls, and Hermione chiming in with whether they 'did it' for her or not; almost all of them were 'nots.' Those she had declared herself not attracted to included – among many others - Harry, Ron, Viktor Krum, Cedric Diggory, Cho Chang, Alicia Spinnet, Dumbledore, the giant squid, and to the youngest Weasley's great relief – Ginny herself.

"At least I don't have to worry about you sneaking into my bed at night!" she had cackled, while Hermione attempted and failed to glare at her, reminded of her own recent thoughts.

On Friday, Hermione had been sat in the Common Room, flicking lazily through 'Hogwarts: A History' for the millionth time, when Harry entered, looking rather glum. He spotted Hermione and headed towards the chair upon which she was sat.

"Hey," he greeted. Hermione closed her book and sat up.

"Harry, you look terrible," she replied. "What's wrong?"

"I…uh…I just asked Cho to the Ball," he explained, sitting upon the arm of the chair. "She's already going with someone."

"Oh Harry, I'm sorry," Hermione said, placing a hand upon his arm. "Did she say who?"

"Cedric Diggory," he said with some difficulty. He shook his head. "It's fine, Hermione. Really, it is. I should have asked her sooner, that's all." The brunette nodded and gave Harry's arm a squeeze, before letting go.

"Well if it's any consolation, I think she's made the wrong decision," she said. Harry managed a small smile. Before they could continue talking, the portrait hole opened to the sudden sound of many voices. Harry and Hermione exchanged puzzled looks, before the group came into view.

There was Ron, being supported on either side by Ginny and Fay Dunbar, staggering into the room. He looked a complete wreck. "It's alright Ron," said Ginny comfortingly. "It's okay, Ron. It's alright. It…it doesn't matter." They and three other girls lead him to the settee, and gently sat him down.

"What happened to you?" Harry asked, walking over to them. Ron remained in silent shock, but Ginny spoke for him.

"He just asked Fleur Delacour out," she said.

"_What?"_ Hermione was crouching at Harry's side in an instant, though her quick movement seemed to go unnoticed.

"What did she say?" Harry pressed, and Ron finally looked up at him, but Hermione interrupted before he could speak.

"No, of course," she said quickly. Ginny gave the briefest of smiles. Ron, still unable to speak, just mumbled and shook his head. "She said _yes_?" Hermione asked, clapping her hands to her mouth.

"Don't be silly," Ron finally spoke, and Hermione had to hide her relief. Ron's sister just rolled her eyes at Hermione's possessiveness. "There she was, walking by, talking to Diggory… You know how I like it when they walk." Harry nodded understandingly. "I couldn't help it… It just sorta slipped out…"

"Actually," Ginny began. "He sort of screamed at her. It was a bit frightening."

"And what did you do then?" Harry asked, bending lower. Ron buried his face in his hands.

"She looked at me like I was a sea-slug or something," he said. "Didn't even answer. And then…I dunno…I just sort of came to my senses and ran for it…" He looked up again. "I'm not cut out for this, Harry. I don't know what got into me." He started to ramble. "…I always liked looking at them from behind…she's never gonna forgive me, ever…"

"She's part-Veela," Harry said. "You were right; her grandmother was one. It wasn't your fault, I bet you just walked past when she was turning on the old charm for Diggory and got a blast of it; but she was wasting her time. He's going with Cho Chang." Ginny looked warily down at Hermione, who seemed to be trying her best to conceal her rage at Harry's words. She was doing a rather good job, expect her left eye was twitching slightly. She kept her brown eyes fixed on Ron, who luckily hadn't noticed how much the brunette had stiffened.

"I asked her to go with me just now," Harry continued, his voice becoming a little quieter. "And she told me…"

Hermione shook her head and got back to her feet. She made to go back to her book, but was intercepted by Ginny. "Are you alright?" she asked. Hermione just shrugged; Ginny was the one looking more put out, most likely due to Harry's mention of asking Cho out.

"Of course I am," she said. "If I didn't feel so sorry for Ron, the whole thing would be rather funny."

"No, I mean what Harry said about Fleur and Cedric," Ginny clarified. "You don't think-"

"Oh of course not," Hermione said, waving a hand dismissively. "Fleur can't control her Veela thrall sometimes. If Harry's right, it was completely by accident."

"I suppose," the redhead mused. "But why-"

"Because," Hermione interrupted again. "Her Veela heritage works like a natural reaction; she doesn't have to find the boy attractive for it to happen. She doesn't even have to be attracted to boys in general."

Ginny nodded, smirking slightly. "Hermione…have you been reading about Veela?"

"…shut up," the brunette squeaked, going scarlet. Ginny sniggered, but frowned after a moment. "Hermione, are they…" She turned back to Ron and Harry, who were both in conversation, laughing.

"They're talking about Neville asking me to the Ball, yes," Hermione said sternly, also turning to face them. At that moment, Ron looked up at met Hermione's gaze. He looked as though a light-bulb had just been switched on in his brain, and Hermione had to stop herself from taking a backward step.

"Hermione…" he breathed. "Neville's right; you _are_ a girl…"

"Oh, well spotted," she snapped, crossing her arms. Ginny had to hide another grin; clearly she could see where this was going.

"Well," Ron continued. "You can come with one of us!" He gestured at Harry, who looked a little taken aback.

"No, I can't," Hermione said without thinking, not even batting an eyelid.

"Oh come on," the redheaded boy said, rolling his eyes. "We need partners – we're going to look really stupid if we haven't got any; everyone else has…"

"I can't come with you," the bushy-haired girl spat, stepping closer. "Because I'm already going with someone."

"No you're not!" Ron retaliated. "You just said that to get rid of Neville!"

"Oh, did I?" Hermione asked, tilting her head and giving a mock-smile. "Just because it's taken _you_ three years to notice I'm a girl, Ronald, it doesn't mean no one else has taken an interest in me!"

"Okay, okay, we know you're a girl," Ron said, holding his hands up in defeat. "That do? Will you come now?"

"I've already told you!" Hermione replied, throwing her hands up. "I'm going with someone else." She stepped closer, jabbing a finger at Ron. "And _I _think _you're_ going to be rather surprised!" She turned on her heel and stormed up to the dormitories.

"She's lying," Ron said, shaking his head. Harry looked nonplussed, but Ginny just smiled knowingly.

"Oh no she's not…"

**~xxx~**

During the week leading up to Christmas, Ron didn't stop badgering Hermione about who she was going to the Ball with, but she remained tight-lipped. At least he and Harry now had partners for the ball; though she did feel very sorry that the Patil twins had become her friends' last resorts. She knew that Ron thought she was lying about her own partner, but that would make his reaction when he _did_ learn the truth all the more amusing. She hoped her friends wouldn't be too annoyed with her for keeping her relationship with Fleur hidden, though it would be understandable. What did concern her was what they would think of the person she was going out with not only being a girl, but the Beauxbatons Champion at that – one of Harry's rivals for the Triwizard Cup.

Almost channelling Ron's annoying nagging, Hermione had started on Harry about his Golden Egg. He still had no clue what the awful wailing sound meant, and hadn't even attempted to find out. He argued that he had loads of time left until the Second Task, but Hermione had retorted that – just like homework – leaving it until the last minute was a bad idea. She wondered how Fleur was getting on with her own egg, and the thought made her smile; after the Yule Ball, she would be able to openly help Fleur prepare for the rest of the Tournament. Her contact with Fleur was still limited to small glances across the Hall, but the mischievous glint in those blue eyes told her to hold her tongue just a little longer.

Three days before Christmas, Hermione had excused herself from the Common Room under the pretence of getting away from another of Ron's interrogations. She headed to the First Floor, and quickly made her way down a narrow corridor, knocking on the door furthest along it. After a brief pause, the heavy wooden door opened.

"Miss Granger," Professor McGonagall greeted pleasantly. "What can I do for you?"

"Professor, I…um…" Hermione looked at her feet. "I need to quickly visit Hogsmeade; either today or tomorrow."

"I see…" McGonagall stepped back, allowing Hermione into her office. She had been in here a few times, though only once for disobedience. Hermione stepped into the centre of the small room, and heard the door close behind her. The professor stepped back into view, and seated herself behind her desk. "Now then, for what purpose do you need to visit the village?"

"A Christmas present," Hermione said. "There's a branch of Madam Malkin's there, and I have a very specific order to place."

"I think I understand," McGonagall said, smiling slightly. "For Miss Delacour, I take it?"

Hermione was flabbergasted. "I…Professor…how…" The teacher just shook her head and continued to smile.

"Miss Granger, my office overlooks the grounds," she said. "I have seen the pair of you on more than one occasion."

"Oh…" Hermione sounded rather put out; she liked to think they had been successful in their secret meetings.

"Don't worry yourself," McGonagall said kindly. "Only Professor Dumbledore and myself are aware of your relationship."

"I see…" the bushy-haired girl said. "Thank you, Professor. For not telling anyone."

"My dear girl, we have all been there," the older witch mused. "Even myself, once upon a time." She quirked an eyebrow. "And what of the Yule Ball?"

"We're going together," Hermione explained. "It seemed the best time."

"It will certainly be dramatic enough," McGonagall said, rolling her eyes. But she gave Hermione a wry smile. "I wouldn't expect anything less from a Gryffindor."

"Thank you," Hermione said again, finally smiling. McGonagall got to her feet, and stepped over to the door.

"I am sure Hagrid will be more than happy to accompany you to Hogsmeade this afternoon," she said. "I'll send word to him." She held the door open for Hermione, and the younger witch stepped towards it. "And Miss Granger, I would prefer it if you did not tell anyone about this. I don't want students getting it into their heads that all it takes is a trip to their Head of House's office to leave the castle when and as they please."

"Of course, Professor," Hermione said, nodding. "Thank you again."

As the door closed behind her, Hermione's smile broadened into a grin. This Christmas was going to be perfect.


	11. The Yule Ball

**Harry Potter and all related characters and places are owned by JK Rowling - I just make them dance for my own amusement.**

**Apologies for this chapter taking so long! I'd originally intended to get it done in time for Christmas, but it kinda ran away from me. However, you are in for a treat - it's the longest chapter yet. And yes, this is the big coming out chapter!  
**

**~xxx~**

Hermione woke from a rather pleasant dream on Christmas morning. She remained still for a few minutes, just enjoying the warmth of her bed and the quickly fading mental image of Fleur's smiling face. She couldn't remember exactly what had been happening in the dream, but she could definitely recall the feeling of the French witch's lips against her own. She smiled inanely, and stretched both her arms and legs, letting out a yawn. The peace was broken when a face framed by long red hair appeared through the curtains of her four-poster.

"Do you spend _any_ time with people in your own year?" Hermione asked sleepily. Ginny just grinned.

"Come on, Hermione!" she said happily. "It's Christmas!" Her head disappeared back through the curtains, before they were pulled back completely. Ginny was wearing a scarlet dressing gown; almost the same shade as her hair, giving her the appearance of wearing a hooded robe. Hermione regretfully sat up, leaving the warm comfort of her bed behind.

"Merry Christmas," she grumbled, rubbing her eyes. As she did so, Ginny moved round to the foot of her bed and started throwing the presents that were piled there up onto the duvet. "You've already opened yours, I take it?"

Ginny nodded. "Thanks for yours," the redhead replied. "You don't mind if I don't tell anyone though, do you? Ron'll go mad if he knows."

"You're going to have to tell them at some point," Hermione said with a smile. "Or are you going to keep pinching their brooms forever?"

"If I have to," Ginny said with a smirk. "Now come on; open yours!" Hermione gave another yawn and pulled the closest parcel towards her, but Ginny stopped her. "No, _this _one first." She grabbed a small square package that was wrapped in sky blue paper with a gold bow. "It's from you-know-who."

Hermione raised an eyebrow.

"No not _that_ you-know-who: _your_ you-know-who!"

The present from Fleur turned out to be a beautiful golden pendant. It's design was incredibly intricate, almost as if the metal had been sewn together from strands of golden thread, entwining together into a point at the bottom. Within the metal was a single gem, long and thin; it's colour a perfect match for Fleur's eyes. It looked incredibly expensive, and Ginny's expression was almost one of jealousy.

From the youngest Weasley herself, she had received a romance novel, with a twist: Ginny had painstakingly altered every single reference to the male lead, who was now a blonde French princess. Hermione was reminded of those books she had had as a child, where the names of the characters were customised to be her own and her friends'. From Harry she had received a book on non-verbal magic; she had mentioned to him that she was interested in studying the theory behind it, even though it was only usually Sixth and Seventh Years that even considered attempting the art. Ron had given her a cuddly toy house-elf, upon which Hermione couldn't form an opinion: cute, offensive, or just downright tactless. As well as a few smaller things from the other Fourth Year girls, she had received a customary Weasley jumper; which by pure chance was of a similar blue to the Beauxbatons uniforms, which had caused a great deal of mirth from Ginny.

Shortly afterwards, they headed down the Common Room. Hermione tucked the necklace into her collar, having already decided to show it openly at the Ball that evening. Ginny excused herself and left with some fellow Third Years, and shortly afterwards Ron and Harry appeared down the stairs from the boy's dormitories. After a quick conversation about their presents, they headed down to breakfast. As always, Hermione's eyes sought out a certain blonde at the Ravenclaw table. However, the Beauxbatons students hadn't arrived yet, and Hermione was forced to watch Ron wolfing down mince pies as though they were going out of fashion.

When the French students did finally arrive in the Great Hall, Fleur was even easier to spot than usual. Over her uniform, she wore a long cloak, similar in style to the Hogwarts ones. The difference being that it was the same pale blue as the clothing she wore beneath it, the fastenings were gold, and it featured a cape that reached the small of her back, matching the design of the silk robes the other students behind her were presently shivering in. Fleur herself didn't look remotely cold, and actually looked rather smug about it as she made her way down the Ravenclaw table. She caught Hermione's eye, and flashed a quick smile. In response, the brunette tapped the spot on her jumper beneath which lay the necklace, hoping that if anyone else saw it would just look like she was scratching an itch. Fleur's smile widened, before she looked back to her sister, who was walking at her side.

Too focussed on Fleur, Hermione hadn't noticed Ron sinking below his copy of the Daily Prophet, clearly remembering his last encounter with the part-Veela. That, coupled with the glares some of the freezing Beauxbatons students were giving Fleur's new cloak, caused Hermione no end of amusement. She suppressed a laugh and returned to her toast, feeling rather pleased with herself.

"Where do you think she got it?" Ron asked a few minutes later. Hermione, who was now reading the Prophet, glanced over it at him.

"What?" Harry asked, looking up from his own food. Ron nodded in the direction of the Ravenclaw table.

"That Gryffindor scarf Fleur Delacour's been wearing nearly all term," he said. "Wonder who gave it to her."

"Probably just someone who doesn't turn purple by being near her," Harry said with a smirk, taking another bite out of his bacon.

"Shut up, Harry," Ron replied sheepishly. "I'm serious." He leant forwards and looked down the table.

"Please tell me you're not counting scarves, Ron," Hermione said, still mostly hidden by the paper. Ron ignored her for a moment, before sitting back down.

"Well it's got to be someone here," the redhead said.

"Look," Hermione said flatly, finally putting the newspaper down. "Ron, how many scarves do you have?"

"Um…two," he said. Hermione turned to Harry.

"And you?"

"Three," the bespectacled boy said. "Why?"

"You're not going to be able to tell who it is by spotting someone not wearing a scarf," Hermione said. "I can see at least six Gryffindors who don't seem to have theirs with them." She quirked an eyebrow. "In fact, the three of us don't have ours either." She raised the Daily Prophet back up. "So why don't you just keep your nose out of peoples' private lives. Especially someone you don't even know."

"Put you in your place, mate," Harry said with a grin.

"You've changed your tune," Ron said, surprised. "I thought you hated the French lot. Wait…she signed up for those Spew meetings, didn't she?"

"If you must know, I…I haven't actually held any meetings," Hermione admitted. "It seems almost everyone is happy enough to live in blissful ignorance of the cruelty that's going on right under out feet." She looked over at the Ravenclaw table for a moment, when an idea came to her. "Besides, she probably only signed up on a dare or something," she said. "I very much doubt she has even given it another thought. She seems far too busy being the centre of attention."

At that moment, Ginny slid into a seat beside Hermione. "Morning everyone," she said. "Merry Christmas."

"Ginny, do you know anyone who's missing a scarf?" Ron said immediately. His sister frowned.

"Er…what?"

"Ronald is trying to find out who gave that Delacour girl their scarf," Hermione said, her eyes twinkling. "He seems incapable of grasping the fact that most people have more than one."

"Well, maybe you'll find out at the Ball, Ron," Ginny said with a knowing smile. "Unless not a single boy here met with her expectations."

"Wouldn't it be so fitting if she did end up going alone?" Hermione added. She knew her complaining about Fleur would only make her friends more annoyed when they did find out the truth, but she was having far too much fun. "A veritable ice-queen."

"Who is she going with?" Ron asked, looking around as if someone would be holding up a sign to identify themselves.

"That's all the Third Year girls have been talking about all morning," Ginny said, clearly forcing a complaining tone. "Who the Champions are going with; Cedric is going with Cho, and Harry is going with Parvati-"

"Blimey, I thought _I_ was going with Parvati," said Ron. "Thanks, Ginny."

"….anyway," Ginny continued, shaking her head. "All they've been doing is gossiping about who the other two are taking." Harry cast an eye over Hermione; clearly remembering her excited admission that she had turned down Krum to the Ball. He looked downright confused.

"Could be going together," Ron suggested. "They're good enough for each other."

"Can't be," Harry said quietly. "McGonagall said Champions can't go together; tradition apparently."

"Why does it matter so much to you?" Hermione asked, rolling her eyes. "You don't know her, and she's completely insufferable!"

"But she's-"

"Don't tell me: absolutely beautiful," the brunette continued. "Yes Ron, we've heard you babble on about her plenty of times." She folded the paper up. "Well regardless, you'll find out tonight, won't you?"

"Alright, new question; who are you going with?"

Hermione just fumed.

**~xxx~**

After breakfast, they had headed back up to Gryffindor Tower, where most people were showing off their presents. Hermione sat apart from the others, idly twirling the pendant between her fingers, thinking of the person who had given it to her. After a sumptuous lunch, during which Hermione had admittedly eaten a little too much turkey in her attempt to stop herself from gawking at Fleur the whole time, they had headed out to the grounds for one of their traditional snowball fights, along with Fred and George. The brunette had decided to sit this one out, in favour of watching, and half reading her Veela book. This turned out to be a bad idea, as it meant that when the Beauxbatons students headed back down to the carriage, Hermione's friends were far too busy with their snowballs, giving Fleur ample opportunity to shoot Hermione a rather playful smile as she walked past. The bushy haired girl shivered, and she was sure it wasn't entirely down to the cold.

She watched Fleur as she walked, her new cloak billowing out behind her in the breeze. Hermione smiled, picturing Fleur twirling around the dance floor with her at the Ball. She wondered if the French girl's dress would be that same powder-blue. She shivered again, losing herself in the mental image of the two of them dancing the night away.

And then a horrible thought struck her.

Tearing her eyes away from Fleur's retreating form, she grabbed her bag and shoved the book she had been reading back into it, hurling the satchel over her shoulder. Harry looked up from the still-raging snowball fight. "Where are you going?" he asked, ignoring the white blur that whizzed past his head.

"Um…need to get ready for the Ball," she said quickly, heading back up the hill towards the stone circle. Ron stepped forward a bit.

"What, you need three hours?" he asked incredulously. Hermione didn't answer, but turned to see Ron hit in the head with a huge snowball thrown by George. He shook the remains from his hair, before calling after the brunette's retreating form. "Who are you going with?"

She just gave a half-hearted wave and continued on her way up the grounds. She reached the entrance to the covered bridge, and took off along the rickety walkway, mindful of the still icy wood. She emerged into the Clock Tower courtyard and continued at speed across it. A group of First Years were just ahead of her, turning to head up into the tower itself, but Hermione knew better. She continued across the chamber to the lone portrait of Damara Dodderidge.

"Bangers and mash," Hermione said quickly, steadying herself against the wall and hoping the password was still in use. The woman in the portrait just smiled dreamily.

"Mmmm….covered in nice thick gravy…" she said longingly, swinging open. Hermione rolled her eyes and stepped into the hidden passageway. After a short while, she emerged at the bottom of the Grand Staircase. Pulling her bag back up her shoulder, she continued up the many steps, jumping the trick-step completely as she went. Up and up she went, almost becoming dizzy as she continued turning right at the end of each individual set of stairs. At least she reached the Fat Lady, and practically yelled the password at her.

She dived through the portrait hole and into the Gryffindor Common Room. _'Please be here, please be here,'_ she begged silently, dashing across the room and startling a couple of Second Years. Panting now, Hermione made it up the spiral staircase to the dormitories, heading through the left hand door and into the familiar corridor that lead to her own dormitory. However, she didn't walk that far, and instead heading into the Third Years' room.

"Hermione?" Ginny looked up from her bed, where she had been checking something in a mirror. Hermione strode across to her and sat beside her, ignoring a blonde girl nearby who seemed to be threading some string through a collection of butterbeer bottletops.

"Ginny, I need you to teach me how to dance before eight o'clock."

**~xxx~**

Harry was trying his hardest to stay out of people's way as they waited for the doors to the Great Hall to open. Parvati had disappeared into the throng of students to find her sister, and Ron was standing at his side, looking very shifty in his frayed robes. It was only now that Harry truly appreciated the House colours; the sea of different hues was making it very difficult to spot people, not helped by the fact that a lot of girls had done things to their hair, making some of them completely unrecognisable. He glanced sideways at Ron.

"Leave it alone!" he hissed, swatting Ron's hand from his opposite sleeve in a very Hermione-like fashion. He was nervous enough as it was without Ron dismantling his robes beside him.

At that moment, Parvati and Padma appeared through the crowd. "Hi," Padma greeted. She looked just as good as her sister, but her face fell somewhat when she saw Ron's dishevelled attire. Despite his best efforts, there was still a lot of evidence of the recently-removed frills. "Don't you look…dashing."

"Hi," Ron replied, not even looking at Padma, who didn't seem best pleased. The twins stood beside their partners to avoid being sucked into the sea of people, but at that point Ron shrank behind Harry. "Oh no…" Harry frowned for a moment, before following Ron's eyes and seeing Fleur Delacour standing nearby, clearly waiting for her partner. Despite his odd behaviour, Ron's actions didn't seem to surprise the twins; even they had heard of his encounter with the part-Veela. Harry turned so he could at least talk to Ron while still shielding him from view. "Can you see Hermione yet?" Ron asked, looking up at his friend.

Harry looked over either shoulder, but shook his head. "Not yet." As they waited, the Patil twins became engrossed in conversation, waving to people they knew as they passed.

"Bet she's not coming," Ron said. "Poor kid; I bet she's alone in her room crying her eyes out."

"You think so?" the dark-haired boy asked, casting another look over his shoulder to spot their friend. Ron nodded.

"Come on, Harry," he said. "Why do you think she wouldn't tell us who she's coming with?"

"Because we'd take the mickey out of her if she did?" Harry suggested, but Ron just shook his head.

"_Nobody asked her_," the redhead said, sounding very sure of the fact. "Would've taken her myself if she weren't so bloody proud." Harry just nodded slowly. He'd spent some time while getting ready trying to think of who Hermione could be coming with, her excited behaviour after turning Krum down still baffling him.

"Champions over here, please!" Professor McGonagall's voice called. She hadn't spotted Harry already standing nearby, and moved over to him. "Oh, there you are, Potter. Are you and Miss Patil ready?"

"Ready, Professor?" Harry repeated, frowning again.

"To dance," McGonagall said. "I told you, Potter, it's traditional that the three Champions – well, in this case, four – are the first to dance. _Surely_ I told you that."

"Oh…yeah…" the bespectacled boy had been so nervous about finding a partner that he'd completely forgotten that he and the other Champions would be opening the Ball.

"That's wonderful!" Parvati said, clapping her hands together and turning to her dance partner. Harry looked less than thrilled at the prospect. McGonagall nodded, and turned to Ron; pausing as she took in his clothes.

"Oh…" she reached forward and examined his collar, clearly baffled by his ancient robes; even her own clothing was far more fashionable. "As for you, Mr Weasley, you may proceed into the Great Hall with Miss Patil." At that moment, the doors opened with a heavy creak, and the students immediately began to enter the Great Hall.

"See you in a minute," Harry said as Ron lead a rather disgruntled looking Padma off along with the crowd. McGonagall spotted someone she clearly wished to speak to and disappeared amongst the other students again. The Entrance Hall began to clear, and Harry caught sight of Cho Chang. She was standing arm in arm with Cedric Diggory, who was greeting someone he knew. Harry couldn't help but stare, Parvati's presence beside him completely forgotten. Cho gave a small smile; it was almost apologetic. He was only vaguely aware of Professor McGonagall ushering the stragglers into the Hall, and Parvati's voice only half-reached him.

"She looks beautiful!" she exclaimed. Harry could only agree; Cho was very beautiful.

"Yeah, she does…" he said wistfully, but then he noticed that the girl beside him was facing the other way. He glanced at her, puzzled for a moment, before following her gaze and turning around.

There was Hermione, walking alone down the steps from the Grand Staircase. She looked absolutely stunning, her normally bushy hair tamed into a silky, elegant knot, a few curls hanging down on one side. She was wearing a layered, periwinkle-blue dress made from some sort of floaty material. It seemed to get darker as they went down, ending in a deep blue at her feet, and around her waist she wore what looked like a belt in the same dark blue. Unlike most of the other girls, she wasn't wearing any earrings, but she was wearing an expensive-looking gold pendant. She smiled nervously as she made her way towards them.

Harry couldn't believe this was the same Hermione; she looked absolutely gorgeous, and Parvati seemed to be staring rather enviously at her. As they continued to watch, a shoulder came into view in front of them. Harry blinked, and saw that it was Viktor Krum. Surely that was it then; Hermione _was_ going with Krum, and had just been so excited that she had said the wrong thing to Harry.

"You look fery nice, Hermy-own-ninny," he said in his strong-accented voice. She smiled in response and thanked him, but then something occurred to Harry; there was already a girl arm-in-arm with Viktor. The Durmstrang student nodded politely, before turning and leading his partner to the door. Harry expected Hermione to greet him next, but instead she looked past him and Parvati, and her smile widened.

Still unable to look away from Hermione's transformed state, Harry watched as Fleur Delacour stepped into view, wearing a dress of silver-grey satin. Like Hermione, she wore her hair up, held in place by an intricately shaped object that Harry didn't even know the name of.

And then it hit him.

It happened almost in slow motion; Hermione took a nervous breath, and as she did so, Fleur reached up and took the other girl's hand in her own. "You are beautiful, mon amour," Fleur said, exuding nothing but complete adoration. Both girls stared into the other's eyes for a moment, before Fleur turned around. Harry was so stunned by what he was seeing, that the effect Fleur's face usually had on him was absent. He couldn't remember seeing Hermione smile as widely as she was at that moment, though Fleur's wasn't exactly small. Harry hadn't even noticed his mouth was hanging open, and didn't know whether it had happened when Hermione had first appeared, or when Fleur had taken her hand.

"Now, I need you all to line up in the procession, please," Professor McGonagall's voice finally broken Harry from his daze. He looked over and saw the teacher standing in front of the doors to the Hall, which had closed again. "Oh, Miss Granger, you are very late." She headed over to the stairs, and both girls turned to her. "Could we have you and Miss Delacour at the front?"

Fleur nodded, and lead Hermione off. The brunette gave Harry a small wave as she went past, still smiling widely. The two girls stood closest to the door, and Harry saw Fleur lean down and whisper something to Hermione. Willing his feet to move, he and Parvati headed over to join the others. "Did you know anything about this?" his partner asked in a whisper. Harry just shook his head silently, unable to take his eyes off the Beauxbatons Champion and his friend. Viktor and his partner stationed themselves behind Fleur and Hermione, and as Harry watched, Viktor tapped Fleur on the shoulder, and gave her a firm handshake. Cedric and Cho were next, and then Harry and Parvati at the back. As they waited to enter, Cedric turned to look at Harry.

"She kept that hidden pretty well!" he said, grinning nervously. "Did you know?"

"No," Harry choked out, shaking his head again. "No, none of us did." Cedric nodded, before turning back to face the doors. Moments later, the doors opened again, and somewhere a fanfare began playing. The thunderous applause from within the Hall brought Harry back to reality with a bang. Forcing his complete and utter shock to the side for a moment, he focussed on keeping his legs moving properly.

**~xxx~**

As they entered the Hall, a nervous energy filled Hermione's body. She kept her eyes fixed firmly ahead, not wanting to see the reactions from the other students. She and Fleur had linked arms, rather than one hanging on the other's, and the French witch strode towards the top table confidently, her head held up high and a smile upon her face. Amidst the applause, Hermione could have sworn she heard a few wolf-whistles. She felt absolutely amazing; all those eyes on her. There was no turning back, not now that the entire school could see them. As they neared the judges' table, Dumbledore smiled at them, and Hermione noticed his eyes lingering on Fleur and her for a few moments longer than the others. Karkaroff didn't look best pleased that his Champion was with a Beauxbatons girl, but then again he looked miserable most of the time anyway. Ludo Bagman on the other hand was grinning broadly, applauding enthusiastically as the Champions approached.

Oddly, Mr Crouch wasn't present; instead Percy Weasley was in his place, looking rather smug. When they reached the table, Madame Maxime gestured for Fleur to sit beside her. The part-Veela did as instructed and sat beside her headmistress. Hermione sat in the next seat, watching as the other Champions and their partners sat down. Harry seemed to have been pulled into a conversation with Percy, but Hermione didn't much care at that point. They had done it; they had come out to the entire school; everyone knew, and she was still smiling.

"So," Madame Maxime's thick accent began. "Zis is the girl 'oo 'as stolen my Champion's 'eart, hm?" Hermione looked up warily, but found that the incredibly tall woman was smiling at her. "Fleur has told me all about you, Mademoiselle Granger. If zere was ever someone 'oo could tame zis petit firework, I believe it is you."

"Thank you," Hermione replied with a smile. She was well aware that Harry, Cedric and Cho kept glancing in her direction, but she ignored them.

"You will 'ave to excuse my English," Maxime continued. "It is not as…refined…as Fleur's."

"It seems perfectly fine to me," Hermione said. "You would be surprised how many Hogwarts students have trouble with it." The three of them laughed, and Harry looked over again. Percy didn't seem to notice, still rambling about Mr Crouch. Hermione couldn't help but feel as though she was interacting with a parent; like a man meeting his girlfriend's father for the first time, trying to make a good impression. She hadn't expected it, but she was so thrilled that Fleur's headmistress approved of her.

They began to eat, and Hermione was still aware of Harry's eyes on her. She imagined a fair few students were looking in her direction, but pushed the thought from her mind. She continued to talk with Madame Maxime and Fleur, and they described the Christmas arrangements at Beauxbatons to her, which sounded rather beautiful. Hermione was even invited to visit the palace during the Summer, as it was being kept open to allow the visitors to Hogwarts to complete their exams. All the while, Harry kept looking as though he wanted to speak to Hermione, but as he was on the other side of the circular table, a private conversation was out of the question.

Before too much longer, the remains of their food vanished, along with the plates, cutlery, and everything else that had adorned the tables. Dumbledore rose to his feet, still smiling, and motioned for those around him to do the same. Like some great multicoloured wave, the students stood as those nearby did so. With a casual flick of his wand, Dumbledore moved the tables to the sides of the Hall. Some were stacked in the corners, and others were positioned with chairs around them, clearly intended to still be used. This left a large open space in the centre of the room, which the students vacated on instinct.

Madame Maxime gave a nod, and Fleur got to her feet, holding out her hand for Hermione. Following their lead, the other Champions got to their feet and filed, just as they had entered the room, onto the dance floor. Hermione saw Parvati wave at someone in the crowd of students, and assumed it was Padma. She made sure her eyes were averted; Ron was not someone she wanted to see at the moment. They positioned themselves in line with the other Champions, and awaited the music. Professor Flitwick tapped his conductor's baton against his lectern, readying the orchestra before him.

"Who's leading?" Hermione whispered. Fleur smiled.

"I shall lead first," she said. "And zen we can switch, if zat is alright?" Hermione nodded happily. She felt Fleur take her waist in a firm grip, and stared lovingly into her eyes. As the music began, Hermione took herself back to the brief lessons Ginny had given her not two hours ago. Luckily, she had picked it up very quickly, though she would never admit that being taught by another girl allowed her to imagine Fleur in Ginny's place. They twirled effortlessly across the room, gaining a fair amount of attention as they did so. Hermione felt as though she was flying; the momentum and Fleur's grip carrying her deftly on her way. Though she did have to restrain herself from letting out a squeak when Fleur lifted and twirled her in time with the music, she just laughed instead. The two of them continued to smile as others joined the dance, and after a while, Fleur let go of Hermione. She stepped back for a moment, giving a curt nod, still somehow in time with the orchestra, and then stepped forward again. Hermione understood, and took Fleur's waist. Despite the French witch being taller, she made it surprisingly easy for Hermione to lead her, seemingly anticipating her every move; and still they were smiling, gazing into each other's shining eyes.

After a while, the gentle music finally disappeared, replaced by the up-tempo beat of the Weird Sisters' _'Do the Hippogriff.'_ Hermione hadn't been expecting the waltz to segue so suddenly into something so upbeat, but allowed Fleur to pull her into the growing throng of students near the stage. It was incredible how Fleur managed to lead her in a dance that still looked elegant, and yet remained in time with such a fast song, and yet somehow she managed it. Then again, Hermione had perhaps not placed enough thought on the fact that her girlfriend _was_ still part-Veela; it had to have an affect somewhere.

It took her by complete surprise really; shy, bookish Hermione Granger, surrounded by hundreds of students, dancing exuberantly with a girl whom she was going out with – it was not how she had pictured her Fourth Year to turn out, but she wouldn't have changed anything. She had never expressed any interest in this sort of music, but in that moment, she would have danced to a funeral march if it meant being able to have fun with Fleur in public. It felt so good; so right; to be doing something with her girlfriend in front of all these people. Whatever reactions there would be from people later on, right now they didn't seem to care. She and Fleur were just two more people in the pulsating crowd; now almost the entire student body, moving like a single huge creature, moving along with the pounding beat.

"Good on 'yer, Hermione!" she heard either Fred or George shout at one point, but didn't even have a chance to respond before Fleur had effortlessly twirled her around again. She wondered just how badly her cheeks were going to hurt later; she hadn't stopped smiling since the music had begun. As the song came to a close, Fleur nodded towards the tables surrounding the dance floor, and pulled Hermione through the crowd of students who were busy applauding and cheering.

**~xxx~**

Harry, on the other hand, had left the dance floor before the Weird Sisters had even started playing, much to Parvati's chagrin. He had lead her over to the table where Ron and Padma were sat, having never even got up for the first dance. Pulling a bottle of butterbeer towards him, Harry sat down. "How's it going?" he asked. Ron, however, remained silent. He was looking rather pale, his eyes directed at the dance floor. Harry followed his gaze and saw a familiar blonde head bobbing up and down in the crowd.

"Have you seen Hermione and Fleur? They look so good together!" Parvati said, gushing. "They're both so gorgeous."

"I wouldn't know," Padma replied irritably. "I haven't got close enough to see." Ron didn't seem to take the hint; he just kept staring, his expression worryingly blank. Harry took a swig from his drink, and looked off into the crowd as well. He could see Cho and Cedric dancing near to where Fleur and Hermione were.

"I think we know where Fleur got that scarf from now," Harry found himself saying. Ron just continued to stare, his eyes narrowing into a partial glare. They sat like that for a few minutes, staring into the crowd of dancing students, the Patil twins becoming more and more fed up.

"May I have your arm?" a voice asked. They looked up to see a Durmstrang student; one of Karkaroff's aides, lean down and take Parvati's hand in his own.

"Arm?" she repeated. "Leg? I'm yours." She allowed herself to be lead away, and Padma seemed even more aggravated, shooting Ron a dirty look and sighing.

At this point, Hermione appeared and flopped into Parvati's recently vacated chair, a large grin still on her face. "Hi," Harry croaked nervously, glancing sideways at her.

"Hot, isn't it?" she said, clearly out of breath. Ron gave her a withering look.

"What the bloody hell are you playing at?" he said angrily. Hermione shrank back, surprised by his outburst. She had been expecting something like this, but it still caught her off guard.

"Ron, look-" But she was cut off.

"Fleur Delacour, Hermione!" he snapped. "You're going out with Fleur Delacour!"

"Well for a start, I never said we were going out," she replied, fighting to keep her voice calm. "Harry came with Parvati and something tells me they're not going out."

"But that's different!" Ron continued. "If a boy and a girl go together, it can be just as friends. If I couldn't find anyone else to go with, I wouldn't have come with Harry."

"Well," Hermione began, nostrils flaring. "If you must know, yes, we are going out." Ron nodded triumphantly. "What's the problem?"

"What's the problem?" Ron repeated. "I'll tell you what the bloody problem is – she's a girl! Why didn't you tell us about this?"

"I had no reason to," Hermione replied. "I don't have to tell you everything about my private life."

"Yes you do!" he snapped back. "And in case you hadn't noticed, she's a Beauxbatons! She's competing against Harry! Against Hogwarts! You're fraternising with the enemy, you are!"

Hermione just sat there, utterly dumbstruck. She opened her mouth to speak, but no sound came out. "You…" she began, her voice quaking. "How _dare_ you? The _enemy_?" She got to her feet, her hands balled into fists. "Who was the one fawning over her all the time? Who called her the most beautiful girl in the world? Who was the one who asked her to the Ball?"

"I s'pose she asked you to come with her at those spew meetings?" Ron asked bitterly, completely ignoring Hermione's words.

"No she didn't," the brunette snapped. "I told you, we didn't have any meetings."

"You also told us you found her insufferable," Harry added, not quite meeting her eyes. He had been silent since the start of the argument, but Hermione couldn't really expect him to accept it without question.

"Look, alright, I did say some things that weren't necessarily true," she admitted, her voice losing a little of it's edge. "But what could I say? No matter how or when you found out, you'd react like this…"

"Probably just spying for Maxime," Ron continued, missing the earnest tone of Hermione's last statement. "Probably just using you to get closer to Harry – get inside information on him – or get near enough to jinx him!"

"Spying…?" Hermione repeated. "Trying to get close to Harry?" She shook her head in disbelief. "Do you really want to know the truth?"

"Enlighten us," Ron said coldly, but Hermione's expression at that made him lean back slightly.

"I met Fleur two years ago, on my holiday in France," she said. "Not that I'd imagine you even remember me telling you I'd been there. When I met her it was purely by chance; she's not trying to get anything out of me!"

"Bet she is," Ron muttered, but the brunette's glare silenced him before he could continue.

"Do you want to know how much she's asked about Harry?" she asked incredulously, her voice cracking. "All she wanted to know is whether I thought he put his name in the Goblet or not, because she trusts me. That's all!"

"Clearly more than you trust us," Ron said sharply. "You've betrayed us!"

"Betrayed you? The whole Tournament's supposed to be about getting to know foreign wizards and making friends with them!" Hermione snapped. "The whole point of it is international magical co-operation!"

"No it isn't!" the redhead replied. "It's about winning!"

By this point, a few people were watching the exchange with morbid interest. Among the closest were Ginny and Neville. "Go find Fleur," the youngest Weasley hissed. "Quick!" Neville nodded, unsure for a moment, before heading into the crowd of students still on the dance floor. Harry spoke up again.

"Ron, look," he started. "Maybe we should just talk about this later. I don't have a problem with Hermione going out with Fleur." He looked up at Hermione. "It may take some getting used to, but I can't imagine you'd do something like this unless you were sure."

Hermione gave him a thankful look, but Ron just ignored Harry as well; ironic considering his next statement; "Remember what Harry said? She's part-Veela! She's probably just seducing you to get to Harry! That's why you're with a girl!"

"Oh for the love of…" Hermione rolled her eyes, her anger rising again. "Veela charms don't work on girls, you idiot! If there's any reason I'm with a girl, it's because boys can be as stupid, moronic and pig-headed as you!" She took a step forwards, looking down at Ron dangerously. "Fleur is kind, compassionate, and more understanding that you could ever hope to be." She took a step back, watching Ron with a mixture of anger and sorrow, before turning to leave.

"They get scary when they get older," Ron muttered to Harry, but clearly not quietly enough.

"Ron, you spoiled everything!" Hermione cried, letting out a sob, spinning around, revealing that tears were falling down her cheeks. With that, she turned on her heel, and stormed off towards the doors. Ron looked rather shaken.

Harry just shook his head. "Well done, mate," he muttered.

"Are you going to ask me to dance at all?" Padma asked. Clearly Ron had forgotten she was there, as he jumped when she spoke.

"No," he said in an off-handed tone, still watching Hermione's retreating form. Padma shook her head in disbelief.

"Fine," she grumbled, getting to her feet and heading off across the dance floor. The crowd that had gathered around them dissipated, and everyone headed back to dance or to their tables. However, a red-robed figure approached from behind Ron.

"Vot did you say to Herm-own-ninny?" Krum said harshly, glaring at the back of Ron's head. The redhead jumped, startled at being addressed by his idol.

"Oh, um…nothing…" he replied lamely, looking up at Krum, who was looking rather imposing standing above him.

"Ummm….Ron?" Harry's attention was focussed on someone else, who was approaching rather quickly. Harry nudged his friend, but he went ignored again. "Ron, I really think-" But it was too late.

"_You!"_ Fleur screeched, stalking towards Ron. Her demeanour was more that of a boxer ready for a fight than that of elegance. "Vous le petit garçon pathétique!" She stopped in front of him, her eyes blazing. "What did you say to 'er?" Ron let out a gargled squeak, cowering at the sight of the enraged girl. However, Krum shook his head.

"Fleur, Herm-own-ninny vould not vant this," he said.

"Come on, Fleur, just leave it," Ginny added, having followed her back to the table. Ron was so terrified, that he didn't even acknowledge the fact that Ginny seemed familiar with the French witch. The blonde girl took a deep breath, and seemed to relax slightly. She closed her eyes for a moment, apparently attempting to calm herself. Ron at least seemed to take it as such.

Which meant that when Fleur punched him square in the face, he never saw it coming.

**~xxx~**

Hermione jumped when she felt a pair of arms around her waist, but a familiar scent quickly surrounded her, and she relaxed. Fleur rested her head upon the brunette's shoulder, and looked up at the stars.

"Do not let one person ruin such a wonderful night," the blonde said quietly. Hermione let out a sob.

"But…but Ron ruined everything…" she said shakily. "It was such a wonderful night…"

"It still is, 'Ermione," Fleur whispered, placing a gentle kiss upon Hermione's neck. "You look magnifique, and I cannot recall ze last time I 'ad so much fun…"

"I could say the same to you," the brunette replied, forcing a smile and leaning into Fleur's touch. "I didn't think you could get any more beautiful…"

"Merci," the French witch purred. "Now zen, shall we find some place warmer? It is raz'er cold out 'ere."

"Oh, yes," Hermione replied apologetically. "Sorry, I should have waited in the Entrance Hall for you." But then her face crumpled, and she let out another sob. "Oh Fleur, you're missing the Ball because of me!"

"I don't care," Fleur said simply, maintaining her smile. "Ze only place I want to be is where you are."

"Well…" Hermione said, her cheeks colouring a little. "We could go back to the Common Room. The Ball doesn't finish for another couple of hours…"

"I zink I would like zat very much," the blonde replied, her blue eyes twinkling.

They ended up spending the rest of the evening sat in front of the fireplace, resting in each other's arms; and admittedly, a great deal of their time was spent kissing. When the nearby clock chimed midnight, they pulled apart. By this point, Hermione's hair had broken free from the control of Sleekeazy's Hair Potion somewhat, and was starting to look rather messy again; though that could have had something to do with Fleur running her hands through it. They looked at each other for a moment, neither wishing to part.

"I…I should probably go," Fleur said solemnly. Hermione nodded, but then an idea struck her. She looked away for a moment, her cheeks reddening again.

"Um…out of interest…" she began quietly. "Would you like to stay the night?"

"Mon dieu! 'Ermione, are you asking me to bed?" Fleur asked silkily, leaning closer again. Hermione's face became redder, and she became very interested in her hands.

"You know I didn't mean it like that…" she murmured. "It's just…I don't want you to go yet…"

"As long as I get to wear some of your bedcloz'es," the blonde replied with a grin. Hermione blanched.

"You are so weird…"


	12. Midnight Interlude

**Harry Potter and all related characters and places are owned by JK Rowling - I just make them dance for my own amusement.**

**Be warned - this chapter is very short. But then again, after the monster that was Chapter Eleven, consider this a little bonus scene. After I'd finished the last one, I really wanted to show this bit, but didn't want to have it at the start of the next one, and I thought that if I added it to the last one, not as many people would see it. However, Chapter Thirteen is already half-finished!  
**

**~xxx~**

A few minutes later, the two of them were entering the Fourth Year Girls' Dormitory. Hermione made to move forwards, but Fleur reached out and stopped her.

"Wait," she said, turning to the other girl and smiling. "I want to guess which bed is yours." Hermione turned away, her cheeks burning again.

"I'm not _that_ predictable," she muttered. However, the French girl just rolled her eyes and stepped further into the room, eying each of the beds in turn. It wasn't long before she stepped over to the bed on the left of the narrow window.

"Zis one," she said. "Lots of books badly 'idden underneaz it, perfectly neat sheets and pillows." She leant into the four-poster, and to Hermione's surprise, took a long sniff. "Mmmmm and it smells like you, too…"

"You're scary sometimes," Hermione replied, smiling and stepping over to the bed. "You're getting rather feral…"

"Must be ze Veela inside," Fleur said, leaning against one of the pillars of Hermione's bed and giving a toothy grin. "It is getting raz'er ravenous…"

"Down, girl," the brunette snapped playfully. "If you are going to stay here, you had better behave yourself."

"Oh, very well," Fleur sighed melodramatically, flopping down onto the bed and spreading herself out as much as possible. Hermione crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow. Fleur just grinned. "Well? I am waiting."

"Wouldn't it be a better idea to get changed first?" Hermione suggested. The other girl shook her head and rolled her eyes.

"Dear me, you are being raz'er formal…" Fleur sighed and sat up. "Zen again…it would be nice to get you out of zat dress…"

"Fleur!" By this point, Hermione's cheeks were burning. She bent down and pulled her trunk out from under the bed, opening it and riffling through. "I'm sure I have something you can wear…"

"Are zese yours?" Fleur asked. The younger witch looked up and saw that her girlfriend had pulled the duvet back and was holding Hermione's pyjamas. "Zey are quite…boyish."

"Shush," Hermione said, turning back to her trunk. "It's too cold to wear a nightdress." She pulled something out from beneath a heap of other clothes. "Which unfortunately is what you're going to have to wear."

"But you just said it is too cold!" Fleur moaned, peering over the edge of the bed and holding onto Hermione's button-up pyjama top rather possessively.

"It's either that, or you sleep naked," Hermione replied, shutting the trunk and getting to her feet.

"I would not mi-"

"_No_."

"Vous êtes insupportable…" Fleur muttered, leaning back onto the bed.

"What did you just call me?" Hermione snapped, flinging the nightdress at Fleur's face. Fleur just pulled the garment off, and smiled.

"Noz'ing at all, mon amour…" she replied silkily, passing Hermione's own pyjamas to her.

"That's what I thought," the brunette replied, narrowing her eyes playfully. "Now then, go get changed over there." She gestured at the other side of the room. Fleur sighed and got to her feet.

"Does it really matter if I see?" she grumbled, moving away from her girlfriend's bed. Hermione just rolled her eyes, and climbed onto her bed. She closed the curtains around it, and set about removing her dress. It turned out to be more difficult than she had hoped. Indeed, Ginny's help had been required to do the back of it up. After a minute or so, she was in danger of breaking her own arm as she struggled with the garment. She collapsed back onto the bed, sighing.

"Fleur, I think I may need some help," she said, picturing the smug look on the other girl's face. She heard footsteps approaching, and Fleur appeared through the curtains. "Do you think you could-" And then she stopped dead. "Fleur!" She averted her eyes as fast as she could. In the few seconds she had seen the French witch, it had been clear that her chest was completely bare.

"Quel est mauvais?" Fleur asked sweetly, leaning further into the bed. "It is too late, mon ange, you 'ave seen…"

"You did that on purpose," Hermione grumbled into her pillow. Fleur chuckled.

"I did no such zing," she said, putting on a hurt voice. "You could 'ave been in mortal peril!"

"Yes, from the evil killer dress," Hermione deadpanned.

"Precisely," Fleur said happily. "Now zen, do you want my 'elp or not?"

"Alright," Hermione said with a sigh. She shifted so that she was laying on her front, her face still buried in her pillow. "There."

"Awww, ma chéri, does my body disgust you so?" Fleur asked, sitting upon the edge of the bed. Hermione just let out what sounded rather like a growl, and Fleur laughed. "Oh very well." She reached forwards, and quickly undid the fastenings on the back of Hermione's dress, parting the fabric. Not missing a beat, she gently placed her hand against the newly exposed skin of the brunette's back. "Mmmm…so soft…"

"Don't get any ideas," Hermione said, making to sit up. "Now, I think I can manage from here."

"Will you not at least look at me?" Fleur pleaded. Groaning again, Hermione pushed herself into a sitting position, her eyes focussed upon Fleur's face.

"Will you let me get dressed if I do?" she asked flatly. Fleur chuckled and nodded. Hermione cast her eyes downward for a few seconds, before looking back up, her cheeks scarlet. "Yes, they're very nice, now can you please shoo."

"What in particular do you like about zem?" Fleur asked, grinning widely again. Hermione reached for the table beside her bed and grabbed her wand.

"_Out_."

A short while later, both girls were dressed for bed. Hermione's nightdress was a little too small for Fleur, but despite her earlier protests at seeing Fleur's more intimate places, Hermione wasn't going to complain about the amount of the part-Veela's long legs on display. Truth be told, the sight of her girlfriend's naked chest had been a pleasant one indeed, but the way in which Fleur just casually showed it off was quite a lot for her to handle so soon. Still, the knowledge that she had seen Fleur Delacour – the apple of many students' eyes – in such a state, made her feel rather pleasant. Once Hermione had spelled her hair back into it's normal bushy curls, she climbed into the bed, keeping over to one side. Fleur was standing a short way away, removing her make-up in front of the mirror. Hermione watched for a while, before starting work on closing the curtains on her side. When Fleur eventually came over, there was something different about her, and it didn't take her long to spot it.

"You know…" Hermione started, tilting her head curiously. "I've never seen you with your hair down."

It was true; during their entire time together in France, and ever since Fleur had arrived at Hogwarts, she hadn't once been seen without her hair in it's usual ponytail, aside from the bun it had been up in at the Ball. But now, her face was framed by silky sheets of straight blonde hair. It was longer than Hermione's, but had nowhere near the same volume. In the light of the single candle beside the bed, it shone like a golden liquid. Fleur smiled, and sat upon the edge of the bed, gazing lovingly down at Hermione.

"And what do you zink?" she asked, reaching down and giving the other girl's cheek a gentle stroke with her thumb.

"I prefer it," Hermione answered, leaning into Fleur's touch. "It looks perfect, even with nothing done to it…"

"The same is true of yours," the blonde replied. Hermione frowned, but the older girl just smiled. "I love 'ow wild it is; it looks like a lion's mane."

"Come here," the brunette said, surprised at her own boldness. Fleur pulled her hand away, before climbing in beside Hermione. She was slightly taken aback when the younger girl climbed on top of her, placing a gentle kiss upon her lips. Never stopping the kiss, Fleur lifted her arms, looping them around the other girl's waist, holding her close. When they eventually parted from the gentle kiss, Hermione's cheeks were rosy again. "I love you," she whispered, her face only inches from the French girl's. "I love you so much…"

"Je t'aime aussi," Fleur replied, leaning up and placing another soft kiss upon the other girl's lips. She smiled widely. "Merry Christmas, 'Ermione."

"Joyeux Noël, Fleur."

When the other Fourth Year girls eventually came back, the curtains around Hermione's bed were closed, and all assumed she had had an early night. Within, the two girls held each other gently, whispering quiet words of affection long into the night.


	13. Fallout

**Harry Potter and all related characters and places are owned by JK Rowling - I just make them dance for my own amusement.**

**As I've been asked this a few times, I think I'll announce it now - yes, there will be a sequel to this fic. Two, in fact, are already planned. While we are just about halfway through this fic (possibly a little before halfway) I intend to continue this story for as long as possible, even post-Deathly Hallows. As the story goes on, it will divulge more and more from canon - that's why this fic is sticking relatively close to it for now.  
**

**~xxx~**

When Hermione woke on Boxing Day, it was to a very warm sensation filling her entire body. She had never felt so well rested in all her life, nor as content. She let out a quiet sigh, and opened her eyes slightly. The entire bed was bathed in red light; the sun's brightness filtering through the scarlet fabric of the four-poster's curtains. She looked to her side, and was greeted with a tangled mass of blonde hair. Even in such a state, Fleur managed to look flawless, at least in Hermione's eyes. The part-Veela was laying on her side, one arm draped loosely over Hermione's waist, the other folded and partially hidden beneath the pillow they shared. The brunette smiled, and slightly tightened her own hold on the other girl. As she did so, Fleur stirred, and lazily opened a single eye.

"Good morning," Hermione murmured, smiling lovingly as the blonde's other eye opened.

"Bonjour," Fleur replied sleepily, pulling her right hand out from under the pillow and reaching up to stroke Hermione's cheek. "I 'ave never slept so well…"

"Same," the younger witch said, leaning into the other's hand. "This…this is how it's meant to be." She allowed her eyes to flutter shut. "You and I…"

"Mmmm let me say good morning properly…" Fleur purred, withdrawing her arm from Hermione's cheek and gently rolling the other girl onto her back, sliding on top of her. She leant down and placed a gentle kiss against her girlfriend's lips.

The kiss lasted a minute or so, before they parted slowly. Fleur was smiling, but Hermione just raised an eyebrow. "You know…" she started, giving a rather coquettish grin. "You could use a mint…"

"'Ow dare you!" Fleur replied incredulously. "Well in zat case, you are going to _'ate_ this." With that, she grabbed Hermione's head, and pulled her into a much deeper kiss, weaving her tongue into the other girl's mouth. Hermione just squeaked, before slowly melting into Fleur's lips.

**~xxx~**

When Harry entered the Great Hall for breakfast, it was at a much earlier time than he had planned. In years past, Boxing Day was usually a very lazy day; the previous evening's festivities seemed to have only exacerbated this. However, Ron was still angry, and Harry wasn't really wasn't in the mood to put up with him. And so, when he arrived in the Hall, there were only a handful of students at each table, and none of the teachers had even arrived for their own morning meal.

As he approached the Gryffindor table, he spotted Ginny's familiar hair at the far end of the table. As he drew closer, he saw who she was conversing with; a once again bushy-haired Hermione, and a decidedly different looking Fleur Delacour. Aside from the First Task, Harry had only ever seen Fleur in either her blue silk robes, or the uniform she wore beneath them. However, now she was wearing a simple white shirt, and a pair of jeans, both of which looked oddly familiar. In addition, her hair was no longer up in it's usual ponytail, and was instead hanging freely, framing her stunning face. As he got nearer, their conversation reached his ears.

"Non non non," Fleur was saying to Ginny. "It is a feminine word, zerefore you should use 'la.'"

"Oh I'm never going to get it," the redhead groaned, dropping the sheet of parchment she had been holding. "Hermione, how in the name of Merlin did you learn all this?"

"Oh, I-" She swallowed her mouthful of toast. "-I learnt French at Primary School; at an after-school club. Though I think a lot of them teach it as a proper subject now…"

"And so zey should," Fleur said firmly. "I 'ad to learn English when I was just a petite fille."

"And you speak it beautifully," Hermione replied, giving a smile.

"Oh stop it, you two," Ginny said, rolling her eyes. "Before one of you makes a bad joke about tongues."

"Morning," Harry greeted them awkwardly, not quite sure whether he should interrupt. He was still reeling from the revelation about Fleur and Hermione the previous night, but was trying his best to not let it show. He was a little angry that Hermione had kept it a secret, it was true, but after hearing just how heartfelt her confession about being afraid was, he couldn't bring himself to punish her for it. The couple were sure to attract a great deal of unwanted attention, and that was something he was all-too familiar with.

"Hi, Harry," Ginny replied, looking up and smiling. Hermione, who clearly hadn't been paying attention, nearly choked on her toast upon realising Harry was there. She swallowed uncomfortably, before jumping up to her feet, catching Harry a little off-guard.

"Harry," she managed, taking a deep breath. "Before you say anything, I just want to say that I'm really sorry about anything I said last night. I didn't mean-"

"It's fine," Harry interrupted. "Really, Hermione, it is. You had every right to be angry for what Ron said."

"But so did you…" the brunette said forlornly. "I should have told you sooner; I should have trusted you."

"We all screw up, Hermione," he said, managing a small smile. "There's no point going on about it." He shrugged. "Honestly, it doesn't bother me."

"Oh Harry!" Without warning, Hermione launched herself at Harry and embraced him tightly. He staggered back slightly, taken completely by surprise. Over the bushy hair, Harry could see Ginny and Fleur watching them, clearly amused. After a moment, the now blushing brunette stepped back. "Thank you…" she said quietly, before moving back to her seat and sitting beside Fleur again.

Harry followed, and sat next to her. At this point, he noticed just how many scraps of parchment there were upon the table; Ginny was again staring intently at one of them. "So…what are you doing?"

"Fleur is trying to teach me French and it's not going very well," Ginny replied, without even looking up.

"You will get it eventually," Fleur said kindly. "I am sure of it." She glanced at Harry. "Per'aps 'Arry would fare better."

"Er…no thanks," the dark-haired boy replied. He was still a little nervous talking to Fleur, and he was pretty sure that the French witch was already quite familiar with him through Hermione, which was slightly unnerving. Still, she seemed a lot more pleasant and relaxed than she normally did.

"That's a shame," Hermione said; that smile was back in place. "Because that means I can do this…" She turned to Fleur. "Je pense que Harry devrait obtenir quelques nouvelles lunettes, n'est-ce pas?"

"En effet," Fleur replied. "Ils paraissent plutôt vieux." Both girls chuckled, and Ginny groaned, turning to Harry.

"You see what it's going to be like?" she grumbled. "They can talk about us right in front of our faces and they could be saying anything!"

Harry smiled and nodded; at least Hermione was happy again. She had definitely seemed rather down since the First Task, and he had a strong feeling that it was to do with Fleur. Now that they were out in the open, she was back to her usual self. And who knew; maybe the distraction of the part-Veela would stop her from hounding him about his homework.

"So…um…" Harry shifted awkwardly. "How exactly did you two…?"

"Well, as I said," Hermione began. "We met in France; the Summer after Second Year. Actually I have Fleur's sister to thank – she ran into me. So Fleur came over to apologise, we introduced ourselves, and she decided to…" She turned to Fleur. "How did you put it, again?"

"I said I was going to make sure ze rest of your 'oliday was fun," Fleur replied, smirking. "You seemed rather scared that I was going to kidnap your or somez'ing."

"Well I had only just met you," Hermione protested. "You certainly did come on rather strong."

"I only wanted to be your friend," the French witch said. "Believe me, ze zought had not crossed my mind zat you would want more; you _were_ only zirteen at ze time."

"_Anyway_," the brunette said, her cheeks reddening slightly. "We spent a week together, and at the end of it, on the day before I was due to leave…I…um…"

"She kissed her," Ginny finished for her, grinning and leaning forwards.

"And zen ran away," Fleur added, giving Hermione a fake glare. "Do not forget _zat_ part."

"Yes…" Hermione said lamely, looking down. "And that's the last time we saw each other. Until the day before Halloween…"

"That's why you ran off like you did at the Feast," Harry said, nodding. "When you-" He gestured at Fleur, "-asked for the…um…"

"Bouillabaisse, oui," Fleur said. "I of course knew it was 'Ermione straight away; even from be'ind I would recognise zat tangled mane of 'air anywhere…"

By this point, Hermione's face was approaching the colour of Ginny's hair. Harry grinned; Fleur and Hermione really did make an adorable couple; just watching them seemed to make what little anger had had left dissipate. "Well, I can't speak for Ron," he said. "But I honestly don't have any problems with it. I suppose it would have been nice if you'd told us straight away, but I understand why you didn't."

"Merci, 'Arry," Fleur said, smiling. "I do 'ope ze Tournament will not stop us from becoming friends." With the shock of discovering Hermione was going out with a girl, the fact that Fleur was competing against Harry really hadn't occurred to him.

"Uhh…no, not at all."

"Speaking of Ron," Ginny said. "How is he? Last I saw, Madam Pomfrey was with him."

"Oh, he's fine," Harry replied. "Well, he's not fine, but…his nose is fine, at least."

"His nose?" Hermione asked, frowning. "What happened to his nose?"

"I broke it," Fleur replied nonchalantly, taking another croissant from the nearby plate.

"You did what?" the brunette asked, flabbergasted. "Fleur, why-?"

"Because 'e made you cry." Again, the answer was rather matter-of-fact.

"It's alright," Harry said. "Madam Pomfrey fixed it straight away. I think most people there thought he deserved it."

"I see…" Hermione said, shaking her head. "Well in future, could you perhaps restrain yourself? I don't want everyone who says something bad about me to suffer broken bones."

"Why not?" Fleur asked. "It is all zey deserve."

"Be that as it may," the bushy-haired girl said sternly. "I don't want you getting into trouble on my behalf."

"Oh very well," Fleur muttered, returning to her food. Ginny sniggered.

"So…um…how was he?" Hermione asked, looking back over at Harry. "Ron, that is."

"Give him time," Harry replied simply. "You know how he can be sometimes."

"I know…" Hermione murmured. "I just wish he could have been happy for me."

"Well look at it from his point of view," Harry said. He wasn't condoning what Ron had said, but he could understand why his friend felt angry. "He finds out that one of his best friends is going out with another girl, who he happens to have a crush on-" Fleur snorted. "And it turns out they've been together for ages, and he was never told." He shrugged. "Gotta be honest, Hermione, you can't have expected him to just accept it."

"No," Hermione sighed. "I suppose not…"

"Plus," Ginny added. "It's not just Fleur he has a liking for…"

"_What_?" Fleur and Hermione said in unison. Well, Hermione said it, Fleur just mumbled it through a mouthful of croissant, a far-cry from her usual elegant demeanour.

"Oh come on, you must have noticed," Ginny continued. "He's fancied you since your Second Year, not that he probably realises it."

"Please tell me you're joking," Hermione groaned. Ginny rolled her eyes.

"Nope," she said. "How did you not notice it?"

"Ginny, you're talking to someone who fell in love with another girl before she turned fourteen," Hermione said flatly. "I'm probably not the best person to read these sort of things."

"Well…" Ginny sat back. "There it is, anyway…."

"There's always something, isn't there?" Hermione said waspishly. "Just when you think you're in the clear, something else goes wrong."

"Welcome to my world," Harry replied, reaching for a glass of pumpkin juice.

They continued to talk for a while, and Harry found himself warming considerably to Fleur. It seemed that whatever Veela charms usually caused boys to drool over her were no longer apparent, something he assumed was to do with Hermione's presence. Or perhaps it was simply fear that Hermione would hex him into oblivion if he started mooning over her girlfriend in front of her. Regardless, in the space of ten minutes, she had gone from Fleur Delacour – snobbish part-veela and Harry's Triwizard opponent, to just Fleur – Hermione's girlfriend and all-round pleasant person. This didn't go unnoticed by Hermione herself, who smiled appreciatively as Harry and Fleur joked about something related to the First Task. Getting used to Hermione going out with another girl was definitely going to take time to get used to, but Fleur was making it as easy as was possible.

As the Hall began to slowly fill up – or at least, as much as it would do on Boxing Day – more and more people were looking in Fleur and Hermione's direction. Harry could only imagine what the Slytherins would say; two girls in a relationship wasn't exactly conductive to their pure-blood way of thinking. Still, they didn't seem to be paying much attention to the stares. Harry told them all about what he had discovered last night, leaving Ron's involvement out in case Fleur got too irritated. Upon learning that Hagrid was half-Giant, Hermione wasn't surprised, but still had a lot to say on the matter.

"They can't _all_ be horrible," she went on. "It's the same sort of prejudice that people have towards Veela; it's just bigotry, isn't it?"

"What do people say about Veela?" Ginny asked curiously.

"Zey seem to zink zat all Veela – whez'er full or only part – are extremely promiscuous," Fleur explained. Harry made a mental note to ask Hermione where the blonde had learnt _that_ English word from. "Zey make us out to be sexual predators or somez'ing like zat."

Ginny sniggered. "I think I know someone who wouldn't mind…"

"Oh be quiet," Hermione snapped, but she couldn't stop herself from smiling too. "The point is, you can't judge a person simply from their heritage. Think about it; there are pure-blood witches and wizards that are awful at magic, and muggle-borns who are really good at it."

"Oui, you would know all about that," Fleur said warmly, placing an arm around Hermione's shoulders and giving her an affectionate squeeze.

"What about Madame Maxime, though?" Hermione asked, leaning into Fleur's embrace. "Harry, you said she told Hagrid she wasn't?"

"Big-boned, is what she said," Harry replied. He hadn't made a big deal out of it, out of a desire to not insult Fleur, and by extension, Hermione. However, Fleur smiled.

"Oui, she is 'alf-Giant," she said. "Zough you did not 'ear zat from me..."

A short while later, the Beauxbatons and Durmstrang students entered as usual, though their numbers seemed reduced slightly; clearly it wasn't just Hogwarts students that were still sleeping off the night before. At the sight of them, Fleur got to her feet. "Excusez-moi," she said. "I will be back in a moment." As the blonde wandered over to the Ravenclaw table, Harry finally had the opportunity to ask a question that had been nagging at him since he had arrived in the Hall.

"Hermione, why is Fleur wearing your clothes?" he asked. Ginny seemed to perk up, and leaned over the table to hear Hermione's response.

"Well…" the brunette began, going red yet again. "…last night, after we left, she and I went up to the Common Room…and at midnight, I really didn't want Fleur to go, so…"

"Oh you _didn't_," Ginny said, clapping her hands to her mouth. Hermione bit her lip.

"She sort of…spent the night…" she admitted. "And of course, the only clothing she had with her was her dress from last night…"

"That would explain why they look a bit tight," Ginny mused, glancing over her shoulder at Fleur, who was conversing with her sister.

"Well what else could I do? Have her wandering around in her underwear?" Hermione said. She shot Ginny a glare. "And don't you dare say that I wouldn't mind that – I can see your brain working, Ginny."

"Wouldn't dream of it," Ginny replied, holding her hands up in defeat.

At that moment, Fleur returned, but she didn't sit down. "I am afraid Madame Maxime wishes to speak wiz me," she said, giving Hermione an apologetic look. She bent down and placed a quick kiss upon her girlfriend's cheek. "I will see you at lunch, mon amour."

She picked up a small bag – clearly another loan from Hermione – and headed towards the doors to the Entrance Hall. Hermione had a rather smug look on her face, watching the students who were unable to take their eyes off Fleur as she went. Unfortunately, just as the French witch was nearing the doors, Ron appeared through them. At the sight of the part-Veela walking towards him, he stood stock still. Harry didn't know whether to laugh or feel sorry for his friend, and continued to watch as the blonde walked past him, scowling. As soon as she was out of sight, Ron continued towards them, looking rather shaken.

Though neither said anything about it, Ron and Hermione seemed to have reached an agreement not to discuss the events of the previous night. They spoke to each other, and actually seemed rather friendly, though Harry couldn't help but notice there was a definite formal edge to their words. Still, it was better than the fallout of past arguments within the trio; Harry didn't think he could handle another few weeks with one of them not talking to another.

**~xxx~**

As the last week of the holiday went by, Hermione began to feel better and better about the situation. Ginny's prediction about the reaction to her coming out seemed to be ringing true, at least in regard to fellow Gryffindors. A few had come up to her in the Common Room and asked her if she and Fleur really were going out, and she had clarified that they indeed were. At every meal that week, Fleur had sat at the Gryffindor table. As if she was attempting to distance herself from her fellow Beauxbatons students, the part-Veela continued to wear casual clothes, and kept her hair down. Hermione had mentally dubbed this 'Gryffindor-Fleur', as she blended in perfectly with the other students at the table.

On the Sunday before term began again, Fleur actually visited the Common Room in the evening. While some students were clearly a little suspicious of her – given that she was competing against Harry – Hogwarts' Second Champion himself had said that until the term resumed, Fleur was there as a friend. Ron still hadn't said anything about his reaction on Christmas Day, though Harry had informed Hermione that their friend was probably trying to work everything out himself, rather than doing so by shouting. Whether this was out of concern for her, or fear of Fleur, Hermione wasn't sure, but it made for a nice reprieve, and an especially enjoyable end to the Christmas break.

Unfortunately, on the first day of term, Hermione's perfect little bubble was burst – and by a savagely familiar quill.

They had just finished their Care of Magical Creatures lesson with Professor Grubbly-Plank, and had been discussing the contents of Rita Skeeter's vile article on Hagrid's half-Giant status, when something hit the back of Hermione's head. She whirled around, as did Harry and Ron, to see Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle a little further down the path behind them. "Your oaf of a friend wasn't the only one exposed in the Prophet!" Malfoy said cheerily. Judging by the fact that the other Slytherins were ahead of them, Hermione got the distinct impression that Malfoy and his cronies had been waiting for her to rejoin Harry and Ron. She had seen him give them the article on Hagrid, and she looked down to see a screwed up piece of paper at her feet. She bent down and picked it up, unfolding it as she did so. Judging by the large letters at the top of it, it was the front page.

'_SCANDAL AT THE TRIWIZARD TOURNAMENT_

_We are not even halfway through the Triwizard Tournament, and already there has been just as much drama away from the first deadly task as there was during it, _writes Rita Skeeter, Special Correspondent_. One key player in this rollercoaster of a story is not even a competitor; yes, you guessed it, Hermione Granger is at it again. Earlier this year, we gained exclusive information that Miss Granger, 15, was in a relationship with her dear friend and Hogwarts Champion, Harry Potter, 12. A short while later, more evidence emerged that Miss Granger was at that point worming her way into the arms of Durmstrang Champion and Seeker of the Bulgarian National Quidditch Team, Viktor Krum, 18, shattering Mr Potter's dreams of a quiet relationship with his friend._

_However, Miss Granger's appetite for famous companionship seems to have no limits. At the recent Yule Ball, a traditional aspect of the Triwizard Tournament, Miss Granger was accompanied to the dance by another Champion. And no, dear readers, it was not Hogwarts Champion, Cedric Diggory, but Beauxbatons Champion, Fleur Delacour, 17. While there is no doubt that Miss Delacour and Miss Granger stole the show at the Ball, one has to wonder just what is going on in Miss Granger's clearly fragile mind. So desperate is she for fame, that she is willing to play with the heartstrings of anyone, even a fellow witch. It is highly likely that Mr Diggory is next on her list, and we will continue to bring you the latest developments in Miss Granger's quest for fame._

_However, there is a flipside to this already complex and deeply disturbing story. As readers may remember, Miss Delacour, it transpired, is in fact not entirely human. Descended from a Veela, Miss Delacour possesses extremely strong powers of seduction, and it is quite possible that Miss Granger has fallen under this femme fatale's spell. Why Miss Delacour would wish to be involved with a harlot such as Hermione Granger is unclear, giving rise to other possible explanations; a _Daily Prophet_ reporter recently secured an exclusive interview with one of Miss Delacour's fellow students. "I have always been suspicious of Hermione Granger," the girl – who wishes to remain anonymous – said. "I have heard her insulting Fleur on countless occasions, and she suddenly turns up at the Ball arm in arm with her? I do not believe that Fleur would ever fall for someone as clearly false and unhinged as that Granger girl, and wouldn't be surprised if she had slipped our Champion some sort of love potion. Personally, I think she has been with Diggory all along, and she is trying to derail the other three Champions." (Please note this interview was conducted through a translation charm, and the wording may not be entirely accurate)_

_These accusations are not unfounded; Miss Granger is the top of her class in almost every subject, and love potions – a potentially dangerous and controversial substance – would not be beyond her skills to produce. This reporter hopes that Miss Delacour quickly comes to her senses and keeps her distance from Miss Granger. For an exclusive 'Conquests of Hermione Granger' pull-out poster, cut out the coupon below…'_

The three of them looked up at each other, in complete silence. The article was accompanied by a large picture of Hermione in the centre, with smaller images of Fleur, Krum and Harry surrounding it. None of the photographic versions of them looked happy at all.

"Personally, I think they should just kick you out," said Malfoy casually. "We're running out of famous students, and Father is afraid you'll start coming after the wealthy ones next."

"You take that back, Malfoy," Ron spat, drawing his wand. Malfoy just raised an eyebrow.

"Oh I see, so _Weasley_ is your next love-slave," he said smoothly. "Hold the front page, boys!" Crabbe and Goyle sniggered. "Personally I'm amazed you had the gall to show up with that filthy half-breed in the first place; or even show your face at all, given your…preferences." He pulled a face. "I feel queasy just thinking about it."

Hermione had been afraid of what would be said about her, but surprisingly, now it had been said, it didn't bother her anywhere near as much as she thought it would. Rita Skeeter's article was so full of holes and fantasy that it may as well have all been made up, and Malfoy's insults felt no different to the usual ones he threw at them; in fact they came across as even more immature and puerile than normal. And best of all: Ron was standing up for her. Normally she would have felt a tad insulted by the implication that she couldn't do it herself, but it made her feel so at ease to know that when it came down to it, he was still on her side.

"I'm warning you," Ron said. Harry, too, seemed to be getting ready to go for his wand. Malfoy scoffed.

"Oh come off it, Weaselby," he spat. "You couldn't hex a Giant's backside."

"Is zat really somez'ing you wish to test?" a calm voice asked. All of them looked up, to see Fleur walking casually towards them from the Stone Circle, once again wearing the cloak Hermione had given her over her uniform. She was carrying her book bag, and looked utterly at ease.

Now Malfoy looked a little nervous; the odds were no longer equal, and the newcomer was three years his senior. He stepped back, Crabbe and Goyle mirroring his movements. "Don't you come near me," he said, his voice not quite coming across as intimidating as he had probably hoped. Fleur just cocked her head to the side.

"Zen go away," she said simply. Malfoy seemed to stand his ground for a few seconds, before scoffing again and sweeping past them, back up towards the castle. They watched him go, before Fleur moved closer to join them.

"Now how is that fair?" Ron asked, tucking his wand away. "I get a broken nose, and all that scum gets is a few words."

"I 'ave been told to…" Fleur glanced at Hermione, smiling slightly. "…be'ave myself." She stepped over to Hermione and looked at the piece of paper in her hand. "I take it you 'ave seen ze rubbish zat chienne has written?"

Hermione nodded. "It was only a matter of time, I suppose."

"Complete hag if you ask me," Ron added, shaking his head. Fleur gave him an amused look.

"Yes, Monsieur Weasley, you are forgiven, do not overdo it," she said, flashing a smile. Ron's cheeks took on a purplish tinge and he looked away. The four of them began walking back up to the Hogwarts, Hermione and Fleur subtly taking each other's hands as they continued along the Covered Bridge.

"Fleur, you're out on the grounds a lot," Harry began. Fleur looked baffled.

"I walk to ze castle and back a lot, if zat is what you mean," she said. "Why?"

"You haven't seen Hagrid at all, have you?"

"Non, désolé," she replied. "I often saw 'im tending ze horses, but not for ze last couple of days."

"Wonder what's wrong with him," Ron mused. "I can't remember Hagrid ever being ill."

As they entered the Great Hall for lunch, they continued talking about Hagrid. Fleur tried her best to follow, but not knowing the man, nor having read Skeeter's article on him, she was only able to offer a small amount of input. However, as the conversation turned to Rita Skeeter herself, and just how she was able to get her information, she was able to join in more.

"I am still unsure 'ow she found out about us," she said as they ate. "I 'eard Dumbledore banned 'er from ze school, and I did not see 'er at ze Ball."

"Plenty of people have been talking about it," Harry shrugged. "And we already know she's been interviewing students."

"Ha!" Fleur laughed harshly. "I doubt she even spoke to one of my fellow students; she probably made zat up to pad 'er story out."

"Still can't get my age right," Harry grumbled, but the others just shot him a look that practically screamed 'priorities.'

"It is weird, though," Ron said. "She knew about Hagrid, she knew about you two; she's got to be skulking around somewhere."

"Maybe she's got an invisibility cloak," Harry offered. "Sort of thing she'd do, isn't it? Hide in bushes listening to people."

"Like you and Ron did, you mean," Hermione said, an eyebrow raised.

"It is not entirely impossible," Fleur said. "Monsieur 'Agrid and Madame Maxime were out in ze courtyard; you and I were out in ze courtyard."

"We have to go see him," Harry said. "This evening, after Divination. Tell him we want him back."

**~xxx~**

The week passed, and there was still no sign of Hagrid. Hermione also had a strong suspicion that Harry was lying about his progress with his Golden Egg; as she had found it abandoned under a chair in the Common Room one evening. She had spoken to Fleur and Harry after dinner one evening, and had told them that if either needed help preparing for the Second Task, she was there if needed; on the one condition that she wasn't put in a position where she would have to divulge anything one had learnt to the other. It wasn't the most practical, but she just couldn't choose between her best friend, and her girlfriend. She got the impression that Fleur was a little put out by this, but the blonde's newfound friendship with Harry stopped her from saying so.

The reaction to Rita Skeeter's article had been mixed; some believed every word of it; she had had people jeering at her and calling her some rather horrible names, and others offering to help keep Fleur away from her. Thankfully, a large number of people had begun ignoring every single word that was even printed on the same page as the phrase 'by Rita Skeeter,' and had offered her their support. Of course, the Slytherins were having a field-day with it, and had taken to quoting the article very loudly in the corridors. She had noticed, however, that this never seemed to happen when Fleur herself was with her; clearly the news of what she had done to Ron at the Ball had also spread rather quickly.

Luckily, Ron seemed to have gotten over his initial shock and anger; he still seemed very awkward around Fleur, especially when she and Hermione did anything even remotely intimate; just holding hands was enough to get him coughing and looking away. Still, it was a start.

At the weekend, after Hermione's run-in with Skeeter herself in Hogsmeade, and their subsequent reunion with Hagrid, the upcoming Second Task began to occupy even Hermione's thoughts. The idea of supporting two Champions was a tricky one; she didn't want either to feel as though they were being ignored in favour of the other, but it was difficult. Harry, along with Ron, was the closest friend she had ever had. Coupled with the fact that she had already annoyed the pair of them by keeping a secret from them for the entire year, and she wasn't inclined to give them any more reason to shun her. On the other hand, she loved Fleur with every fibre of her being, and had shamefully admitted to herself that if Fleur asked it of her in the right way, she would probably cave in and reveal anything she wanted. It wasn't cowardice or a lack of loyalty; she just placed more importance on their relationship – something that would hopefully last, rather than the Tournament – which was only a temporary thing.

The sight of Fleur's Beauxbatons uniform at the Gryffindor table had quickly become a familiar one, and even some of the other students from Hermione's house, like Neville, Dean and Seamus, were now on speaking terms with the part-Veela. However, on Monday evening, Fleur wasn't there. When Hermione sat down, Ginny handed her a note; upon which Hermione's name was written in an elegant hand.

'_Hermione,_

_Meet me outside the Prefect's Bathroom on the Fifth Floor at midnight. Ginny mentioned that Harry may have something that will help you get here without being seen._

_All my love, Fleur.'_


	14. Bubbles and Books

**Harry Potter and all related characters and places are owned by JK Rowling - I just make them dance for my own amusement.**

**~xxx~**

Harry had seemed rather suspicious when Hermione had asked to borrow the Invisibility Cloak and Marauders' Map that evening, but had no objections. Clearly he assumed that if Hermione was asking for items she usually frowned upon, it must be important. About five minutes after she had left the Common Room that night, Hermione began to appreciate just how adept Harry was at sneaking around. The cloak, though mostly transparent from the inside, made her sense of depth rather diminished, and more than once she had to stop herself tripping over or bumping into things. Holding the map up was also a challenge, as it had to be done one handed; the other being used to stop the cloak falling under her feet.

After nearly running into Mrs Norris on the staircase, Hermione finally made it to the Fifth Floor. She had never been in this part of the castle before, but of course knew the layout. The corridor she was faced with had a sloped roof, and windows at floor-level, only reaching about halfway up the walls. Moonlight filtered in through the low windows, illuminating the suits of armour standing against the wall. She continued on and around the corner. At the end of the corridor was a statue of Boris the Bewildered, according to the map. Wishing Fleur had given her more instruction on how exactly to find the Prefect's Bathroom, she stopped walking for a moment, and looked closer at the map. Eventually finding the room she was looking for, she stepped over to a door, four along from the statue. Glancing both ways, as well as checking the map again, she pushed. And nothing happened.

It made sense that the door was locked, and for a moment she considered knocking. But no, that would just create too much noise. Again, she scrutinised the map for any clues, and to her relief saw a tiny speech bubble appear above her name on the parchment, within which were the words _'Pine fresh'_. She whispered them to the door, and there was a small click. Smiling to herself, she muttered "Mischief managed," and pushed the door open.

Directly ahead of her were four ordinary looking wash basins; only three of which had a mirror to go with them. To the left were a few toilet cubicles, and Hermione began to wonder just what was so special about the Prefect's Bathroom; it looked to be just the same as the other ones. Stepping further into the room, she shook the cloak off, and folded it in her arms. She nearly dropped it when she looked to her right, however. Surrounded by tall windows, one of which was made of stained glass, was a huge angular bath; though it was more akin to a swimming pool. The surface was entirely covered in bubbles, which seemed to be due to the large amount of taps to one side of it. She made her way up the marble steps in front of her, which placed her on the raised area surrounding the bath. She spent a minute or so just looking around the impressive room, taking in the stone pillars surrounding the water, and the intricate patterns of the windows. The gentle sound of the water was rather relaxing, and Hermione found her desire to become a Prefect only increasing.

She began to walk along the marble floor around the bath, still in awe of the room, until her foot hit something. She looked down, and saw a very familiar leather book-bag. As if on cue, there was a splashing sound, and a blonde head appeared from within the bubbles.

"Bonsoir," Fleur said happily, parting the curtain of hair that had fallen in front of her face. Hermione had to stop herself from jumping back; Fleur had scared her half to death. "Awww, did I startle you, mon ange?"

"A…a little…" Hermione managed. Fleur chuckled and swam to the edge of the bath, cutting a wake through the bubbles.

"Zen I apologise," she said, grinning up at the other girl.

"Are you going to tell me what this is all about?" the brunette asked, bending down to place the cloak and map at her feet. "I can't imagine you had me sneaking around after hours just to invite me to have a bath."

"Maybe I did," Fleur replied, but Hermione just raised an eyebrow. "Oh very well, I actually 'ave somez'ing to show you." She pushed off from the side of the bath, and swam back a little. "'Old on." She disappeared beneath the bubbles, and returned a moment later, clutching her Golden Egg. Hermione's eyes widened.

"You solved it?" she asked, impressed. Fleur nodded.

"Observe," she said. Twisting the catch on the top of it, she opened it for a couple of seconds. The awful wailing sound echoed around the large room, continuing to reverberate long after Fleur had closed the egg.

"Are you mad?" Hermione snapped. "Someone will hear!"

"Of course zey will not," Fleur said reproachfully. "I put a silencing charm on ze room. 'Onestly 'Ermione, I am not a fool."

"Sorry," Hermione replied, her cheeks colouring slightly. "It's just I'm not a very big fan of sneaking around this late."

"Anyway," Fleur continued, smirking. She lowered the egg into the water, and allowed herself to sink a little further in. Hermione, frowning in understanding, got onto her hands and knees, leaning her head over the edge of the bath. She gave the blonde a confused look, before grabbing as much of her hair in a single hand as she could, and dipping the side of her head into the water. As she did so, Fleur allowed herself to completely sink into the water, and opened the egg again. This time, the sound was very different. A ghostly, yet oddly melodic voice echoed through the water.

"_Venir nous chercher où nos voix sont entendues,  
Nous ne pouvons pas chanter au-dessus du sol,  
Et pendant que vous cherchez, méditez ceci;  
Nous avons pris que vous manquerez douloureusement,  
Une heure longtemps vous devrez chercher,  
Et réclamer que nous avons pris,  
Mais le passé une heure, la perspective est sombre,  
Trop dernier, il est allé, il ne reviendra pas."_

Slowly, Hermione withdrew her head, ignoring the few strands of hair that had fallen into the water. Fleur re-emerged from the bubbles, and watched curiously as Hermione moved into a sitting position, her expression seemingly frozen. After a few moments, she blinked, and turned to the other girl. "Do you have a quill?"

"In my bag," Fleur replied, pointing at the object Hermione had nearly tripped over. The brunette moved over to it, and riffled through until she had pulled out a fresh sheet of parchment, a bottle of ink, and a rather fancy-looking golden quill. She wrote feverishly for a moment, before turning back to Fleur and visibly relaxing. "Right, I think that's an accurate enough translation," she said, scanning through what she had just written.

"I take it zey assumed 'aving to translate from English would put me at a disadvantage," Fleur said. Hermione laughed in response.

"As if that would give you any trouble," she scoffed, and the blonde smiled appreciatively.

"You are too kind," she said. "Anyway, now zat we 'ave ze egg worked out, do you 'ave any idea what it could mean?"

Hermione paused for a moment. Despite agreeing to help both Harry and Fleur, she knew she wouldn't feel comfortable pretending she didn't know how to get the egg's true message, and spending time giving fake ideas to Harry would be just as bad as lying. Still, he had claimed that he had mostly worked it out, so perhaps he already knew.

"Well, it's quite obvious that you'll have to find something," she said. "Given that the First Task was about getting past something protecting a goal you could see right from the start, I imagine this will focus more on actually locating it."

Fleur nodded. "Zat is what I assumed," the part-Veela replied. "I also 'ad an idea about where zis searching may take place. 'Ave anoz'er look in my bag."

Hermione did as she was told, and went back through Fleur's bag. She pulled out a couple of books, one of which had what looked like a folded page sticking out of it; torn from something else. She pulled that out first, and unfolded it. It was quite clearly a map, but it took her a while to figure out what it was of. "The lake?" she asked. "Of course! 'Come seek us where our voices sound' – and as their voices can only be heard underwater, the lake is the only logical place. The egg really is a clue, isn't it? It's not so much the words, but more how you have to hear them in the first place." She opened the book the map had been kept in, and a quick flick through told her it was a guide to various aquatic magical creatures. "Fleur, you don't think…?"

As she had been talking, Hermione hadn't noticed a splashing sound behind her, nor the wet footsteps that followed it. It was only when a shadow appeared over her that she looked over her shoulder.

"…Fleur, you're…you're…"

"Completely naked and dripping wet?" the blonde asked casually. "Oui, I suppose I am." She smiled widely. "Now zen, you were saying?" Hermione just continued to stare. She hated herself for it, but she was completely at the mercy of her girlfriend's bare form. She was guilty of having had some decidedly less than innocent dreams about the part-Veela girl, but none of them compared to actually seeing her nude body in all it's glory. The flickering light from the various torches around the room danced across her skin, the water's sheen only adding to the effect. Fleur's throaty laugh broke her from her trance. "Oh 'Ermione, you are no better zan zose boys 'oo are always staring at me," she chuckled, folding her arms across her chest. "Ma chéri, I am up 'ere!"

"Those…those boys don't get to see you like this…" Hermione breathed, her voice rather raspy. Fleur leant down and placed a quick kiss upon the top of Hermione's bushy hair.

"Only you," she murmured. "Now zen, are you going to continue what you were saying? Or should I put some cloz'es on?"

"Oh, um….right," Hermione stammered, reluctantly turning back to the books. "Well let's go through the message…" Behind her, Fleur sat down, resting her chin upon Hermione's shoulder and peering over it. Hermione bit her lip to restrain her smile; here she was, shy bookish Hermione Granger, studying old tomes as always, while Fleur Delacour was completely naked and draping herself over her. It was far from an unpleasant situation. "'Come seek us where our voices sound' – the lake. 'We cannot sing above the ground' – now is that just referencing the egg? Or…" She turned the page of Fleur's book. "…merpeople. Their voices can only be understood below the water."

"Zat was what I zought," Fleur said. "Zen again, ze stained-glass window in 'ere was a big 'int."

"That's a point, just how did you end up in here?" Hermione asked, glancing to the side; Fleur's head was level with hers.

"I shall tell you later; carry on wiz zis first," the blonde said, and Hermione nodded.

"'And while you search, ponder this' – so yes, you will be searching for something," Hermione continued. "'We've taken what you'll sorely miss' – that almost implies they've taken something that belongs to you. Has anything gone missing lately?"

"Non, noz'ing I can zink of," Fleur replied.

"Well, perhaps they haven't actually taken it yet," the brunette said. "'An hour long you'll have to look, and to recover what we took' – well that's obvious; you have a time limit. Though that could be…problematic."

"Zere are various mez'ods of breaz'ing underwater," Fleur said. "We learnt about zem last year at Beauxbatons."

"Really?" Hermione asked. "I've never heard of any..." Her shoulders sagged slightly. "Then again, I do keep forgetting that you're three years ahead of me."

"As do I," Fleur said, resting her head against Hermione's. "As I said all zat time ago; so mature…"

"Thank you," the bushy-haired girl said, her cheeks reddening again. "Anyway… 'But past an hour, the prospect's black. Too late, it's gone, it won't come back' – that sounds…ominous."

"Hmm…so if it is not found, we never get it back?" Fleur asked. "Zat sounds raz'er cruel; taking away a personal belonging and zen leaving it at ze bottom of a lake if you do not reach it in time."

"_That_ is what you're most worried about?" Hermione replied, incredulous. "Fleur, do you have any idea what sort of creatures are down there? Even if you can find a way to breathe underwater for an hour, you'll have to contend with all sorts of horrible things in your way."

"Well, at least I 'ave you to 'elp me come up wiz some ideas," Fleur said, smiling widely. Hermione returned it, and their foreheads touched.

"Awwww, aren't you two sweet?" a voice from the other side of the room said glumly. Hermione and Fleur instantly turned to the direction of the voice, and were met with a sight that was very familiar to Hermione.

"_You_," she said, rather quickly shedding her robes and throwing them over Fleur's bare body. Leaning upon the seat of one of the toilets, was the familiar spectral form of Moaning Myrtle.

"Oh it's just 'you' now, is it?" the ghost replied sulkily. "After all the time I let you stay in my bathroom, brewing potions with your little friends."

"Ceci est un scandale!" Fleur spat, her blue eyes blazing. "Why do zey let ghosts just wander around ze castle at will? If you tried zis at Beauxbatons, you would be out faster zan you could blink!"

"Ooooooo she's a feisty one, Granger," Myrtle said, breaking into a wide grin. "Maybe you should keep her _on a lead!"_

"'Ow dare you?" Fleur snapped. She tried to get to her feet, but Hermione's robes made it rather difficult, and the younger girl placed a firm hand upon her shoulder.

"Fleur, she's not worth it," the brunette said, glaring at the ghost.

"Oh of course Myrtle isn't worth it!" the bespectacled spirit whined. "She's not worth anything at all!"

"Myrtle, calm down," Hermione said, careful to keep an eye on Fleur. "Now, what are you doing here?"

"I just wanted to see what all the noise was," she said. "This is the _Prefect's_ Bathroom; you two shouldn't be in here."

"Ze Beauxbatons and Durmstrang students are allowed to use it," Fleur said icily. "Do you often spy on people bathing?"

"Sometimes," Myrtle said, her eyes glinting. "Though Cedric Diggory was a lot nicer to look at…"

"Did he bring his egg in here too?" Hermione asked, speaking quickly in case Fleur had another go at Myrtle.

"Oh yes," the ghost replied. "Took him a lot longer to figure it out; he spent hoooours talking to himself." She shot Fleur a dirty look. "Though he didn't have any help; he did it all himself."

"Save it, Myrtle," Hermione snapped, her own anger rising now. "Now, are there merpeople in the lake?"

"Well of course there are, stupid girl," the ghost replied. "Always have been. I've seen them sometimes…"

"Thank you," Hermione said icily. "Now would you mind going?"

"Fine," Myrtle huffed. She turned to Fleur and glared again. "If you drown down there, don't even think about coming into my bathroom."

"Zat is ze last zing I would do, believe me," Fleur replied murderously. "Now be gone!"

Letting out a long, sorrowful whine, Myrtle plunged back into the toilet. They listened to her subsiding racket, before both breathing sighs of relief. "Sorry about that," Hermione said. "She's never really liked me."

"Obviously," Fleur muttered, shaking off Hermione's robes and getting to her feet. The brunette found herself momentarily stunned again, before forcing her lecherous thoughts into the back of her mind. Tearing her eyes away from Fleur's curvaceous body, she looked back at the book. There was a drawing of a rather vicious looking mermaid, and she felt herself feeling uneasy. She glanced up and saw that Fleur had grabbed her wand and was levitating the plug out of the bath, draining the water. There were still a few marks on Fleur's body from the First Task; her burnt arm had been fully healed, but the less serious wounds had been left to mend on their own. Hermione didn't like the idea of Fleur coming to any more harm, but it was far too late to start badgering her about safety again.

"Well zen," Fleur said. "I suppose we should both be off to bed." She sounded almost regretful. "So I am afraid your little peep-show is at an end…"

"I'd hardly call it a peep-show," Hermione said, getting to her feet and smiling. "Just why do you like wandering around in front of me with nothing on?"

Fleur shrugged. "I feel comfortable around you?" she offered. "I am not quite certain…" She smiled widely. "'Owever, I doubt you are complaining, ma chéri."

"Umm…no, not at all," Hermione said. She stepped closer still, and rather boldly encircled Fleur's bare waist with her arms. "I like to see what is mine…"

"Ahhhh…she is getting braver…" Fleur said, her eyes twinkling. Hermione chuckled.

"Well, I can hardly be shy when I have seen…" She looked Fleur up and down. "…everything…" Fleur gave another throaty laugh and pulled Hermione closer, pressing their bodies together. They shared a rather long kiss, before Hermione pulled away. "We…ah…we really should be getting to bed."

"Oui," Fleur replied, rather obviously licking her lips. Hermione rolled her eyes, and returned to Fleur's bag, packing everything back into it. As she did so, she heard the blonde getting dressed across the room. By this point, Fleur's skin had long since dried, and only her hair was still damp. A minute later, both were ready to leave.

"Fleur, there's one thing I want to know," Hermione said. "What made you think of trying the egg underwater?"

"Oh, it was quite amusing actually," the blonde said. "One of my friends – ze one Krum went to ze Ball wiz - said she 'ad been watching 'im swimming a lot; diving off ze Durmstrang ship. I zought per'aps 'e knew somez'ing I did not, and wondered why 'e was spending so much time practicing in ze lake. It was only logical to try ze egg in ze water."

Hermione nodded, impressed at Fleur's thought process; she imagined she would have gone about it in exactly the same way. "Will you be okay getting back to the carriage?" she asked.

"You will find I am surprisingly adept at sneaking around after hours," Fleur replied, smirking. "I was quite ze troublemaker in my early years at Beauxbatons."

"You know, when I first met you, I wouldn't have believed that," Hermione said. "But now, I recognise that look you get on your face..." She smiled. "It's the same look Harry and Ron get when they're planning some rule breaking."

"I shall take zat as ze 'ighest form of compliment," the blonde said. She leant closer and pecked each of Hermione's cheeks. "Bonsoir, mon amour."

"Wait." Hermione took out her wand, and flicked it in Fleur's direction. What looked like a jet of steam shot out of it, and quickly dissipated; Fleur's hair was completely dry. "There."

"Ah…non-verbal magic," Fleur said, clearly impressed. "I am not even surprised anymore."

"Thanks," Hermione said, smiling gratefully. "Anyway, goodnight Fleur." She placed a final kiss upon Fleur's lips, before pulling the Invisibility Cloak over herself. As Fleur exited the room, Hermione followed closely. They left in different directions; Fleur heading straight down the corridor, and Hermione turning to the right, back the way she had come.

**~xxx~**

The next few days passed rather quickly. True to her word, Hermione hadn't mentioned anything of her meeting with Fleur. When Harry and Ron had asked, she had simply said that Fleur had invited her down to the Beauxbatons carriage to meet some of her friends. On Friday morning, when Harry revealed that he had only worked out the egg the previous night, Hermione hadn't been best pleased; he had indeed been lying about having figured it out beforehand. Of course, when Harry revealed that Myrtle had visited him, and had told him Fleur and Hermione had been in the Prefect's Bathroom only a few nights before, she had been forced to come clean about their midnight rendezvous.

Whether Myrtle hadn't mentioned it, or Harry was simply thinking of what Ron's reaction would be, he hadn't mentioned anything Myrtle catching Fleur completely unclothed with Hermione, something the brunette was rather grateful about. After Harry had given her a written version of his egg's message, she had been rather pleased that her translation of Fleur's egg was almost identical, and made a mental note that she really needed to speak more French around Fleur; it was only fair.

Of course, Ron had rather tactlessly asked her what Fleur was planning to breathe underwater with, but she had honestly replied that she didn't know. Fleur seemed confident in magic she had already learnt, and hadn't even bothered to mention it by name, though upon reflection, Hermione decided that may have been intentional; so she didn't have to keep another secret from Harry, and could help him without having to fake not knowing the answer.

Two days before the Second Task, Fleur had come to Hermione before breakfast and said it would be better if she didn't eat at the Gryffindor table for the next few days; before and after the Second Task. While Hermione's peers had welcomed her with open arms; in her capacity as the brunette's girlfriend, at least, she was still the Beauxbatons Champion, and she didn't want to cause a scene. Harry himself wasn't eating properly again, something that worried Hermione, and she had been badgering him constantly at mealtimes to eat more. When the latest message from Sirius arrived, Harry seemed even more disappointed.

"Weekend after next," she whispered to Harry, having read the message from his godfather over his shoulder. She handed him her quill to write his reply. "Actually I wanted to ask you something about Hogsmeade anyway."

"Hm?" Harry murmured as he wrote.

"Well…um…would it be alright if Fleur came with us?" she asked. "She really wants to see the village."

"Are you sure that's a good idea?" Ron chimed in. "If Siri- …I mean Padfoot - wants to know, he's probably planning something; might even turn up himself."

"I hope not," Hermione said. "That would just be-"

"Exactly the sort of thing he would do," Harry said, handing his reply to the owl and watching it fly off. He turned to Hermione. "If you're sure she won't tell anyone about Padfoot, then I don't see why not."

"Thanks, Harry," Hermione replied, smiling.

**~xxx~**

Care of Magical Creatures had been interesting ever since Hagrid had returned to the subject. He clearly had his full support behind Harry, but was careful about how he phrased things; or at least tried to be. He had of course seen Hermione and Fleur at the Yule Ball, but hadn't mentioned it once. She had hoped he wouldn't hold it against her; the half-giant was clearly confident beyond words in Harry. As the rest of the class attended to the golden unicorn foals, she overheard Harry and Hagrid talking, and couldn't help peeling off from the main group and subtly stepping closer, hoping to get Hagrid to talk to her.

"Yeh're goin' ter win," Hagrid was saying, patting Harry on the shoulder. "I know it. I can feel it. Yeh're goin' ter win, Harry." He looked up in surprise. "Oh, hello, Hermione. I was jus' tellin' Harry about-"

"It's alright, Hagrid," she said. "You really don't need to tip-toe around the subject." Ron, who had followed her, pulled a face; clearly trying to imagine Hagrid tip-toeing in real life.

"Oh…righ', yeah, it's jus'…" He really didn't seem to know how to talk about this.

"Hagrid, I don't have a problem with, nor would I expect you to do anything other than fully support Harry," Hermione said. "Just…try to think of Fleur the Champion and Fleur my girlfriend as two different people, if that helps."

The bearded man's face flushed slightly, and he shifted slightly. "I…er…suppose yeh heard all tha'…"

"It's fine, Hagrid," Hermione insisted. "I'd much rather you speak your mind than worry about offending me."

"Oh I'd never dream of offendin' yeh, Hermione," he said, and the brunette nodded.

"Exactly, so don't worry about it," she said. "So when the Second Task takes place, I expect to see you cheering for Harry."

"Righ' yeh are," Hagrid said, still sounding rather nervous. Sensing Hagrid's discomfort at discussing the subject, Hermione just smiled and headed back to the Unicorns.

**~xxx~**

The evening before the Second Task, Hermione was close to pulling her hair out. She, Ron and Harry were sat alone in the library, pouring over piles of books, searching for anything that could allow a person to breathe underwater for the time needed. She was becoming more and more irritated that Fleur hadn't mentioned what she had planned, and cursed herself for not asking about it. Even though that would have then raised the issue of having to keep it hidden from Harry, the fact that she herself was unable to find anything on the subject was giving Hermione a headache. The library had never once failed her before, and now they couldn't even get close to what they were looking for; it felt almost like a personal betrayal on the part of the room.

More infuriating was the fact that Ron and Harry were still joking; tiredly laughing about Harry becoming an Animagus goldfish of all things. She closed the book she had been reading irritably, and sighed. "Oh this is no use," she groaned, running a hand through her hair. "Who on earth wants to make their nose hair grow into ringlets?"

"I wouldn't mind," said a voice. She looked up to see Fred and George Weasley standing there, looking rather amused. "Be a talking point, wouldn't it?"

Ron, who had be drifting in and out of wakefulness, sat up straight. "What are you two doing here?" he asked. The twins exchanged knowing looks.

"Looking for you," George said. "McGonagall wants you, Ron. And you, Hermione."

"Why?" the brunette asked, baffled. Surely their head of house knew they would be helping Harry; though perhaps that was why she wanted to see them; maybe McGonagall thought she and Ron were helping Harry too much, or that there was something unsporting going on involving Hermione's link to Fleur.

"Dunno," Fred said, shrugging. "She was looking a bit grim, though."

"We're supposed to take you to her office," George added. Hermione gave Harry and quizzical look, and clearly he was just as confused as she was; Ron looked the same. Gathering her belongings together and pulling her robes – which had been hanging from the back of her chair – back on.

"We'll meet you back in the Common Room," she said, but Harry didn't seem to take much solace in it. "Bring as many of these books as you can, okay?"

"Right," Harry said, looking even more worried than he had done previously. Hermione followed Ron and his brothers out of the library, still wondering just why McGonagall would want to see her and Ron for something, but not Harry. Deciding the answers would present themselves when they arrived, she just focussed on following the others, hoping this wouldn't take long.


	15. The Second Task

**Harry Potter and all related characters and places are owned by JK Rowling - I just make them dance for my own amusement.**

**~xxx~**

At nearly midnight, Harry was still desperately going through the books he had taken from the library, and had no intention of going to bed any time soon. Despite what Hermione had said, she and Ron had yet to return, and he was becoming nervous. What if McGonagall _was_ punishing them for helping him, or perhaps they were being kept away so they wouldn't help him anymore that night. He had barely acknowledged that Crookshanks had curled up in his lap, nor had he replied very enthusiastically to all those wishing him luck as they went through the Common Room up to bed. The pile of books he had been through was now larger than the stack of unread ones, and with every discarded book, he became more and more tense.

He could picture everyone's reaction the next day; when he inevitably stood there, unable to do anything. Ludo Bagman's huge smile would slowly fade, replaced by a look of bewilderment. Karkaroff would be grinning like a madman, proclaiming that he had been right about Harry. Krum would probably just look down at him, Cedric would tell him the answer should have been easy; simple, Fleur would be biting her tongue, not wanting to upset Hermione.

"Excusez-moi." Terrific, now he was hearing the voices of the people he could see in his mind's eye. "'Arry?"

He blinked, and looked up from 'Dreadful Denizens of the Deep'. Fleur was standing by the portrait hole, looking confident and elegant as always. "Oh, Fleur," Harry stammered, a little conscious that he was surrounded by a small wall of books. "Hermione's not here."

"Oui, I can see zat," the blonde girl said, stepping a little closer. "But no matter; I actually came to see you."

"To see me?" Harry repeated. For a tiny moment, he thought she was going to help him; maybe so Hermione wasn't disappointed in him.

"Oui," she said again. "I know zat tomorrow, we compete, but I still consider you a friend, and so I wish to say to you - bonne chance." Harry gave her a blank look, and she smiled. "_Good luck." _She chuckled, and Harry felt a slight prickle of Fleur's familiar Veela charms floating his way. "Désolé, I sometimes forget you do not know as much French as 'Ermione does."

"Or any at all," Harry said, forcing a smile. He mentally slapped himself moments later for his bad joke, but Fleur laughed anyway.

"Indeed," she said. "Anyway, as 'Ermione is not 'ere, I shall leave you to your…" She cast her eyes over the books. "…'omework, is it?"

"Er…something like that, yeah," Harry lied. Fleur nodded, and headed back towards the entrance.

"When you see 'Ermione, tell 'er goodnight from me," she said, before disappearing from view. Harry sat back in his seat. Well, even if he did make a complete fool of himself the next day, at least he could maybe cheer Fleur on from the sidelines after they inevitably fished him out.

**~xxx~**

"Wait a minute…" Hermione gasped, looking around McGonagall's office. "It's us, isn't it?" Beside her, Ron looked bewildered, as did Cho Chang and that Beauxbatons girl that Krum had gone to be Ball with. Fred and George had left them outside the small room, and the four of them were the only occupants, at least until that point.

"Right you are, Miss Granger," Professor Dumbledore's voice answered. They all looked up, to see him and Professor McGonagall entering the room.

"Hermione, what're you on about?" Ron asked. Hermione expected Dumbledore to answer, but he just smiled at her, and she continued.

"We're the things the Champions will miss most," she said. "Ron, you're Harry's closest friend." The redheaded boy looked as though he was about to say something, but she cut him off. "No don't try to say we both are; you'll always be closer to him; doesn't mean we're not all still best friends." She turned to the others. "Cho, you're going out with Cedric, so that's obvious, and you…Marie, is it?" The girl nodded nervously. "You and Viktor are going out."

"And you're going out with Fleur," Ron finished. "Oh great; now everyone's going to think me and Harry are together."

"Oh don't be silly," Hermione hissed, watching as Dumbledore stepped forward to speak.

"Miss Granger is quite correct," the headmaster said. "Each of you must be retrieved by your respective Champion in the time allotted to them."

"Retrieved?" Cho repeated. "From where?"

"From the bottom of the lake, Miss Chang," McGonagall said grimly, but Dumbledore continued to smile, even after the Ravenclaw girl had gasped.

"All of you will be completely safe," he said. "You will all be placed into a deep sleep; a charm that will also allow you to breathe beneath the water, as well as protect you from any ill-effects of being down there."

"But what happens if they don't get to us in time?" Ron asked. "The egg said-"

"Exactly what it needed to in order to motivate your Champions to try their hardest," Dumbledore finished for him. "If your Champion fails to find you within a reasonable amount of time, or is forced to retire, anyone left will simply float to the top, and you will awaken." He smiled. "Aside from getting wet, none of you will come to any harm, you have my word."

"So…are you doing it now?" Cho asked. "That's why you called us here tonight, isn't it?"

"That is correct, Miss Chang," Dumbledore said. At the look of horror on their faces, he chuckled. "Don't worry, you won't be spending the night in the company of the merpeople. It was simply decided that in order to preserve a certain level of mystique around the task, and for obvious logistical reasons, it would be more appropriate for you to have no further contact with your Champions until the Task itself."

Ron looked rather pale, and Hermione gave him a reassuring smile. She knew exactly what he was thinking; Harry was probably still either in the library or the Common Room, still desperately trying to find a way to breathe underwater. As for herself, she had faith in Fleur to succeed, though knowing she was wouldn't come to harm didn't completely set her mind at ease. The Champions' captives being safe made sense - they hadn't exactly signed up for this; but the Champions themselves were still in very real danger. In their search through various books on underwater creatures, Hermione had discovered even more aquatic animals that could very easily live in the lake along with the merpeople, and the thought of Fleur encountering any of them made her skin crawl.

"Are there any questions?" Dumbledore asked. After there was no response, he clapped his hands together. "Lovely. Now then, if you could all sit down, we will begin."

**~xxx~**

The following morning, Fleur was shivering as she looked out over the lake. Having already changed into her swimming costume, her sister had forced her to wear the cloak Hermione had got her until it was time to enter the water. As she had been making her way down to the lakeside, and the boats waiting to take them to the three large wooden structures in the middle of it, she had overheard Fred and George Weasley again offering bets on who would succeed. She caught Ginny's eye, who seemed to take it as an order, and the redheaded girl headed off after her brothers, intent on stopping them.

She kept looking left and right at the other two platforms on either side of the one she was standing on, and still couldn't see Hermione. Gabrielle, always knowing what her sister was thinking, was looking around too, but to even less avail; she was too short to see over most people. In fact, she hadn't seen Ron or Harry either, and wondered if the three of them were in some sort of trouble. A short way behind her, she could hear Karkaroff fussing over Krum as usual. She glanced over at him, and saw that the Durmstrang Champion was actually looking rather fed up with his headmaster.

Ludo Bagman seemed excitable as always, and was currently chatting with Madame Maxime, who seemed to have a similar expression to Krum. Turning back to the water, Fleur drew the cloak tighter around herself as the breeze seemed to pick up. As far as she could tell, the only reason they weren't yet starting was Harry's absence. The stands above them seemed to be all but packed, and the other Champions were there, as were the judges. She noticed that Barty Crouch was still absent, and Percy Weasley – whose name she had since learnt from Hermione – was again standing in for his boss.

"Hermione not here?" a voice asked. Fleur turned to see Cedric Diggory standing nearby, looking just as cold as she felt. She shook her head.

"Non," she said. She looked around for a moment, and frowned. "Mademoiselle Chang is not 'ere eiz'er?"

"No, dunno where she's got to," Cedric replied. "She said she'd meet me before the task – never turned up."

"Très étrange..." Fleur murmured. "Zey cannot_ all_ be 'eld up…"

"Well!" The booming voice of Ludo Bagman sounded. "Harry still isn't here yet, so if you three could get into position; then we can start the moment he arrives." They nodded, and Fleur removed the cloak, handing it to Gabrielle, who didn't seem very steady on her feet underneath the huge expanse of blue material. Fleur shivered again as the wind hit her skin, but was distracted when Percy Weasley's irritated voice came from somewhere behind her.

"Where have you been?" He snapped. "The task's about to start!"

Fleur turned on the spot, to see Harry staggering towards her, looking rather breathless. He forced a smile in greeting, but Fleur was more focussed on the space behind him, where she had expecting to see Hermione. However, the brunette was still nowhere to be seen. "Now now, Percy!" Bagman said, sounding suspiciously relieved that Harry had finally arrived. "Let him catch his breath!"

Harry moved into the line with the other Champions, beside Fleur. "Where's Hermione?" the bespectacled boy asked. Fleur was rather alarmed.

"I 'ave no idea," she said. "I zought she was wiz you."

"Haven't seen her since last night," Harry replied. "She and Ron never came back up to the Common Room. No one's seen them this morning either."

"Now now, no conferring!" Bagman interrupted, smiling broadly. He pointed his wand at his throat again, and spoke to the assembled spectators, his voice echoing across the dark water. "Welcome to the Second Task!" he bellowed excitedly. "Last night, something was stolen from each of our Champions: a treasure of sorts!" Fleur frowned. She had actually made a point of checking her room in the carriage that morning, and had found everything exactly where it should be. Perhaps they had had something of hers sent from France? "These four treasures – one for each Champion – now lay on the bottom of the lake. In order to win, each Champion need only find their treasure, and return to the surface. Simple enough!" He looked back down at the Champions, and even though his voice was still loud enough for all to hear, it was clear his words were directed more at the Champions themselves. "Except for this; they will have but _one hour_ to do so, and one hour _only!"_ Fleur rolled her eyes; what had been the point of the egg, really? Yes, it had no doubt allowed them to prepare, but it was all being explained for them right now anyway. "After that, they'll be on their own; no magic will save them!" He stepped back, and gave a wave to one of the upper levels, where Mr Filch was looking down at them. "You may begin at the sound of the cannon!"

True to form, Filch immediately set the cannon off, not even waiting for Bagman's voice to stop echoing. Without thinking; a sudden surge of adrenaline pumping through her; Fleur dived straight into the water. Cedric and Krum seemed to have had the same reaction, as all three of them hit the surface at the exact same time. She swam downwards for a short while, the other two drifting off left and right, while Harry was nowhere to be seen. She pulled her wand from the holster strapped to her leg, and focussed. The Bubble-Head Charm was simple enough to perform; all she had had to practice was performing it non-verbally, given that the incantation wouldn't work underwater. Thankfully, it worked perfectly: a small stream of bubbles shot out of her wand, before slowly grouping together and merging into a single large bubble, which shot towards her and wrapped itself around her nose and mouth. She paused for a moment, before taking a tentative breath, and breathed a sigh of relief into her magical oxygen supply.

Tucking her wand back into it's holster, she set off into the murky depths. She swam close to the rocky surface, which quickly disappeared from beneath her, giving way to a large canyon. It was so deep she couldn't see the bottom, and for a moment she considered lighting her wand; but decided against it, that would just impair her speed, and probably just illuminate the tiny particles that filled the water, like trying to use a torch in fog. Steeling herself, she forced herself to swim downwards. An added bonus of the Bubble-Head Charm was that it repressed her body's natural reflex to swim upwards, and so she was able to continue until she reached what appeared to be a forest of seaweed. A few fish that had been following her seemed to pause, unwilling to follow her into the dense forest of plants, and Fleur knew she should be at the ready.

She wouldn't be able to swim very fast through the plants anyway, and so pulled her wand out again, and continued into the weed. It was eerily quiet, save for the sounds she herself was making. She was well aware of her own breathing, and scolded herself for letting her nerves get the better of her. She was the Beauxbatons Champion; she shouldn't be letting a little quiet get to her. As she pressed on, she was sure she had felt something brush against her leg. Fleur whirled around, her wand held up, but saw nothing but murky green water and endless plant life.

She relaxed for a moment, and continued further. She kept seeing dark shapes moving through the weeds, but couldn't be sure if they were creatures, the other Champions, or just tricks of the light. However, her answer came a few moments later, when a pair of clawed hands latched onto her thigh. She instinctively kicked out, but the Grindylow was too high up, and remained attached. Pointing her wand at the tentacled creature, she blasted it off her, sending it whirling back through the water. However, several more of the small animals were appearing from within the weeds, and Fleur picked up her pace, swimming onwards as fast as she could. Still, holding her wand in one hand was definitely slowly her, and she felt another few scrapes from the Grindylows' claws against her feet and legs. She willed herself to swim faster, but constantly having to dodge round the weeds was making it difficult, and eventually, a couple of the creatures grabbed her. Instantly, they began pulling her downwards. As she struggled, Fleur ended up spinning onto her back, and watched as the dim light from above the water became slowly darker. She tried to fire off another spell, but by this point, there was at least one Grindylow on each limb, dragging her further into the depths.

Fleur was dimly aware of the pain the creatures were causing. She cursed herself for not having practiced more; for not spending more time reading about these creatures; for not following Krum's example and spending time in the lake beforehand. She wondered what Hermione would say, knowing that her girlfriend had been defeated by no more than underwater vermin. And that was enough to will her to fight back. Like hell she was going to embarrass Hermione like that.

With what could only be described as a snarl, she grabbed the Grindylow that was on her wand arm - her left - and pulled with all her strength. The creature came free, and Fleur swiftly smacked it into one of it's fellows, attached to her left leg. Rid of two of them, she quickly dispatched the others with her wand, and without a second look back, she swam with all her might away from the dazed Grindylows. Finally, the weeds began to clear, and she entered what could only be described as a clearing, which made sense given that the weeds were more like a forest.

Up ahead, she could see a large archway-like structure. And then she heard it; the song again. It was in English this time, but she recognised the voice and the melody.

"…_your time's half-gone, so tarry not,  
Lest what you seek stays here to rot…"_

That didn't exactly sound encouraging, but it told her she was heading in the right direction. She continued through the archway, and saw that it appeared to lead to what looked like a sunken, half-demolished cathedral. On either side of her, large stone pillars stood in neat rows, leading directly forwards. She slowed slightly, surveying the area before carrying on; she didn't know if there was some sort of challenge she had to pass here; the stone pillars made the place look enough like an arena of sorts. As she went, she caught glimpses of movement behind the pillars, and she knew these weren't more Grindylows. The further she swam, the more merpeople became visible; they weren't even trying to conceal themselves now. The song continued, echoing through the water as if it were air, getting louder and louder.

And then up ahead, she saw movement. Someone was struggling with one of the merpeople, who was carrying a large trident, brandishing it threateningly. As Fleur neared them, she saw that the person was Harry, looking very panicked as the tip of the weapon was pressed against his neck. Behind him, two people were floating motionlessly, tethered down to stop them rising upwards. With horror, she saw that one of them was Hermione. Her skin was pale and ghostly, and her bushy hair was floating around her head like a tangled brunette cloud. Ron was floating beside her, looking just as pale. There were two other seaweed ropes hanging uselessly nearby, and Fleur assumed another two captives had already been rescued.

It all made sense; the things they would miss most. Spurred on by her own protective instincts, she desperately swam towards Hermione. She held her wand out and severed the rope; the flash of light distracting Harry and the mermaid from their struggle. Harry's face was relieved, and he quickly swam back to Ron. As Fleur reached Hermione, she wondered just what had been going on; had Harry been trying to save Hermione too? She grabbed the brunette's waist, and began swimming up. Relief flooded her; she had done it, Hermione was safe, and would soon be out of this freezing lake.

However, a sound broke her from her feelings of triumph. She looked downwards, and saw a familiar scene; Harry was being attacked by Grindylows. And what was worse, whatever he had used to breathe underwater seemed to be wearing off; the gills on his neck were closing up, and his webbed hands and flipper-like feet were receding back into normality. Fleur paused, watching the boy struggling as best he could while still holding onto his redheaded friend. Harry was kicking at the creatures with all his might, but his movement was so impaired that it was having little effect. Fleur looked back up to Hermione's pale face, a small stream of bubbles coming from her nose as she continued to sleep, and then back don at Harry.

Knowing what she had to do, Fleur thrust Hermione upwards as hard as she could, sending her on her way towards the surface. The blonde herself dived back downwards, wand drawn. The Grindylows were swarming now. At least thirty of the repulsive creatures were circling around, taking it in turns to scratch and claw at Harry as he battled as hard as he could to swim upwards without the aid of his webbed feet. Fleur aimed carefully, and sent a stream of hissing steam and bubbles towards the attacking creatures. The force of the spell detonated like a depth-charge, and sent almost all of the Grindylows flying back, stunned. Harry, who seemed to be suffering from oxygen deprivation, looked up at Fleur. He was clearly surprised, but still forced a smile.

"Go," he mouthed, slowly continuing to swim up with Ron. Fleur nodded, and headed up to the surface. She couldn't see Hermione above her, and put on an extra burst of speed, desperate to make sure her girlfriend was safe.

As she breached the surface of the icy water, the Bubble-Head Charm wore off, and she took in a long deep breath of the fresh air. She heard cheering, and turned around. On the platform, she could see Hermione being fussed over, while others were applauding Fleur. Part of her was desperate to be at Hermione's side, but she repressed it. She looked downwards, and saw a dark shape approaching. The cheering died down a bit, and everyone seemed confused as to why she wasn't making her way to the platform.

However, they got their answer when Harry and Ron broke the surface. The dark-haired boy looked exhausted, and Fleur instantly grabbed his free arm and slung it over her shoulder, helping him return to the platform. The noise that erupted at this was deafening as they reached the wooden structure. Several hands extended out, and they were pulled up onto the water-level platform. Ron was taken first, followed by Fleur, and then Harry. They were all but carried up the ladder to the main level, and were quickly smothered with towels. When all were safe and out of the water, the cheering grew even louder. They were surrounded by applauded onlookers, and were quickly joined by Professor Dumbledore and Ludo Bagman, who was beaming wider than they had ever seen him.

"They're alright!" he declared in his magically enhanced voice, to which the crowd grew louder still. Fleur, finally confident that everything was okay, allowed herself to collapse back onto the wooden deck of the platform. A few people gasped, but she was fine; just exhausted. Harry seemed to be in much the same position.

"You…" he began, taking deep, loud gulps of air. "…you didn't…have to…"

"Oui…I did…" Fleur replied, taking equally strained breaths. "You tried….tried to save 'er…even zough she was not yours to save…." She gave a breathless smile. "I am sorry…it was ze Grindylows…zey attacked me…I would 'ave been zere sooner…"

"Don't…don't worry about it," Harry half laughed. "…I can sympathise…"

"I want all the judges over here now!" Dumbledore was shouting. "A conference before we give the marks, I think!" He disappeared off into the crowd of students. Despite the headmaster's words, Ludo Bagman remained crouched beside Harry.

"Well done, Harry!" he said enthusiastically. "Excellent work, my boy!"

"Ludo!" Dumbledore's voice floated over the students, and Bagman quickly got to his feet and followed. Fleur was just about to sit back up, when she had what little breath knocked out of her by a still rather soggy Hermione. The brunette had all but dived on top of her, showering her face with kisses.

"Fleur!" she exclaimed, her eyes shining with pride. "Are you alright? You must be freezing!"

"Bloody hell, Hermione," Ron said, stepping over to them. "Let the poor girl breathe!"

"Is…is zis your way of warming me up?" Fleur asked, laughing as the brunette continued to embrace her. Hermione leant back a bit, still straddling the blonde's waist, and turned to Harry.

"And you Harry, you were brilliant!" she said happily.

"I finished last, Hermione," Harry said, his smile fading for the first time since they had got out of the water.

"That remains to be seen," Hermione replied. "I think Dumbledore's speaking to one of the mermaids about what happened down there." She got to her feet, and helped Fleur stand up, throwing another towel over the blonde's shoulders. Ron did the same for Harry, who was also given a few extra layers to help warm up. Without warning, Hermione managed to grab the three of them and pulled them all into a hug. Ron was clearly a little awkward at being so close to Fleur, but the blonde just grinned and embraced them all tightly. It was an odd sensation; she felt completely accepted and welcome. However, the moment was soon over.

"Ladies and gentlemen!" Bagman's voice boomed. "We have reached our decision! Mer-chieftainess Murcus has told us exactly what happened at the bottom of the lake, and we have therefore decided to award marks out of fifty for each of the Champions!"

"The marks are as follows…" Dumbledore began. "The winner is…Mr Diggory!" The crowd erupted into applause, and Cedric rather modestly accepted the exuberant pats on the back from his fellow Hufflepuffs. "Who used the Bubble-Head Charm, and scored forty-nine points!" When the applause had died down a little, he continued. "Mr Krum used an incomplete form of Transfiguration, which was nevertheless effective, and was second to return with his hostage. We award him forty points!"

Karkaroff looked rather pleased, or at least as pleased as someone could possibly look while still appearing as though they wanted to murder someone, and patted Krum on the shoulder as the students cheered for him.

"However," Dumbledore said. "Seeing as Mr Potter, who used Gillyweed to great effect, would have finished first, had it not been for his determination to rescue not only his own hostage, but another as well, we have agreed to award him forty-five points, for outstanding moral fibre!" Fleur made a point of applauding very loudly at this, getting a few baffled looks from her fellow Beauxbatons students, who had gathered around her.

"And finally to Miss Delacour, who also used the Bubble-Head Charm," Dumbledore continued. "Who would have quite easily returned in third place, but instead went back to assist another Champion, at risk to her own standing, not to mention her own life, demonstrating just as much bravery as Mr Potter, we also award forty-five points!"

Fleur let out a laugh, and grabbed Harry, hugging him tightly and clearly catching him off-guard. With those scores, Cedric was now in first place overall, followed by Fleur, then Harry, and Krum in last. Karkaroff looked positively furious, but a glare from Ludo Bagman silenced him. The jovial man stepped forwards and smiled again.

"The third and final task will take place at dusk on the twenty-fourth of June!" he said. "The Champions will be notified of what is coming, precisely one month beforehand. Thank you all for your support of the Champions!"

As the judges headed away, the four of them were joined by Fleur's sister. She remained silent, but kept shooting Harry rather glowing looks as they made their way to the boats. The other Beauxbatons students – clearly a little put out by Fleur's support for Harry – had already left. But she didn't care one bit; despite having just competed against one of the people she was walking with, she had never felt more at ease as she did with the trio. As they got into the nearest boat, Hermione made a point of sitting in front of Fleur, leaning back into the other girl's arms. The blonde placed a gentle kiss upon the top of Hermione's still damp hair, and smiled.

She had quite enjoyed being referred to as 'Hermione's Champion.'

**~xxx~**

That evening, the festivities in the Gryffindor Common Room promised to be even more extravagant than those in the aftermath of the First Task. However, once again Hermione wasn't present. She had decided it wouldn't be appropriate for her to attend Harry's victory party, given that she had been the goal of one of the competing Champions. That, and she had received a whispered invitation during the boat ride back to the castle.

She looked up from where her head had been resting against Fleur's chest, smiling lazily. Even in the dim light of her room in the Beauxbatons carriage, and covered in bandages and plasters, Fleur looked absolutely gorgeous. Hermione had quickly headed back to Gryffindor Tower to change her clothes and pick up her nightwear, and was all set to spend the night in the carriage. She had felt oddly like she had as a small child; preparing for sleepovers at her Primary School friends' houses. She had even joined in with the Beauxbatons celebrations; some of the students still seemed a little suspicious of her, but Fleur, Gabrielle and Madame Maxime's liking for her seemed to keep them silent.

Letting out a quiet yawn, she snuggled further into Fleur, tucking her head under the blonde's chin. Fleur smiled, embracing the other girl gently.

"I never actually thanked you for saving me," Hermione murmured. Fleur laughed.

"Zere is no need – zere was no real danger, if what you said is true," she replied.

"No, but still…" the brunette continued. "It's nice to know I'll always have someone looking out for me."

"Stop talking like a frightened damsel," Fleur said, grinning. "You are 'ardly ze type."

"No…" Hermione nodded. "But that just means I can save you too, if I need to…"

"I zink I would raz'er enjoy being saved by you, mon ange…"


	16. Padfoot & Witherwings

**Harry Potter and all related characters and places are owned by JK Rowling - I just make them dance for my own amusement.**

**Well...it's been a while, huh? I hope everyone's still with me! This chapter was a complete pain. Why? Because it's really nothing special. I didn't want to skip over it and just summarise it in a paragrah or two, but...I dunno, it's not exactly that interesting. Still, here it is. With this out of the way, normal service should resume. You're lucky in that my favourite form of procrastination is plotting fics - even if the thing I'm meant to be doing at the time is writing the sodding thing!**

**Anyhoo, I'm sorry about the wait, and I hope this serves as a decent way of announcing the fic's return to activity...  
**

**~xxx~**

In the wake of the Second Task, Hermione found the interest in her had only increased. There had been a great deal of compliments and teasing – in equal measure – that she was the thing Fleur Delacour would miss most. She wasn't that bothered, but some of the sneers from the Slytherins about being a 'traitor to the school' had irked her considerably. Rather amusingly, the very day after the task had taken place, Fleur was already back at the Gryffindor table; her rescue of Hermione seemed to have only made her even more welcome.

Ron had been telling some rather tall tales of his experiences in the lake, but after an exaggeration too far – involving him fighting off a vicious army of merpeople – he went back to the original, accurate version of the story, mainly due to glares from Hermione, and the odd mocking laugh from Fleur. As the days passed and they moved into March, things began to settle back into normality, at least relatively so. Classes progressed as they always did, with the exception of Care of Magical Creatures, where Hagrid still seemed unable or unwilling to discuss anything that could possibly lead to mentioning Fleur. Hermione didn't quite know what to make of it; either he simply hadn't got used to the idea, or – as Hermione suspected – he was still suspicious of the part-Veela.

Hermione could understand why; to an outsider, Fleur appeared to have seduced Hermione, and was quickly befriending Harry Potter himself. It did indeed look a little odd, but she didn't dwell on it for long; she knew the facts and that was enough. As the weekend approached, Hermione found herself becoming rather excited about the upcoming Hogsmeade visit. It would be her first time out in public with Fleur, and even though during the weekend visits most of the people they saw were also students, it still felt special.

At breakfast on Friday, another letter from Sirius arrived, giving them directions on where to meet him in Hogsmeade. He hadn't specifically stated that he would be there, but there could be no other reason for requesting the trio brought food with them. Harry seemed rather concerned about this, but as Ron pointed out, the castle and surrounding areas were no longer swarming with Dementors. Fleur watched the three of them whispering with a curious look on her face, slowly finishing her breakfast. Hermione could see her from the corner of her eye; she knew Fleur was a little put out by the fact that there were still some things her new friends kept from her, but she was too polite to mention it. After bidding her girlfriend goodbye, Hermione followed Harry and Ron out of the hall.

"Harry," she whispered. "Are you still okay with Fleur coming with us tomorrow?"

"Oh, um…" It was clear he had actually forgotten about it. "Yeah, we can trust her."

"Are you sure?" Hermione asked seriously. "I won't be offended if you don't want her to know."

"No, it's fine," the bespectacled boy said, giving a smile. "Don't worry about it."

For the rest of the day, the brunette's mood was considerably bright. Even Arithmancy – which had the potential to bore Hermione herself – was rather enjoyable. She felt rather selfish for hoping that their meeting with Sirius wouldn't take up their entire visit. In retrospect, Harry probably wanted to spend as much time with his godfather as possible, but Hermione was still rather keen to spend some time in the village with Fleur. At lunch she told Fleur about the arrangements, but again refrained from mentioning Sirius. A quick bit of research had confirmed that he was just as infamous abroad as he was in his own country due to his assumed involvement with Voldemort, and Hermione thought it best to let Sirius introduce himself. By the time she arrived at the dungeons for double Potions that afternoon, she was still in a rather good mood about the next day.

Of course, it was all too good to be true, and as she approached the classroom with Harry and Ron, they were greeted by the sight of Pansy Parkinson and her usual huddle of Slytherin harpies, in addition to Crabbe and Goyle. All were laughing about something, and their eyes lit up as they saw the trio drawing near. "There they are! There they are!" Pansy cackled, moving towards them. She slapped a rolled up magazine into Hermione's chest. Instinctively, the brunette took it, and allowed it to unfurl in her hands. "You might find something to interest you in there, Granger!"

Hermione barely had time to register that it was a copy of Witch Weekly, before the classroom door opened and Snape stood back to allow them in. Hermione stalked straight to the back of the room, furthest from Snape. As soon as the greasy man had turned away to write on the blackboard, she back leafing through the magazine, and very quickly came to the source of the Slytherin's mirth.

'_CEDRIC DIGGORY: SAFE – BUT FOR HOW LONG?_

_Quickly turning into the true focus of the Triwizard Tournament, Hermione Granger is still up to her usual tricks, _writes Rita Skeeter._ Not content with rejecting the young and impressionable Harry Potter, she still has her claws firmly into the French part-Veela, Fleur Delacour. However, how long will this last? Sources close to Bulgarian Seeker Viktor Krum state that Miss Granger is still often seen talking and laughing with the hero of the last Quidditch World Cup. To compound matters, it has emerged that Fleur Delacour has invited Miss Granger to visit her in France over the summer holidays. The Delacours are a very old and well-respected wizarding family, and would no doubt be horrified to know what this harlot is doing to their daughter. If that wasn't enough, it seems as though Miss Granger is moving in on her fourth and final Champion. Cedric Diggory, 17 - a popular student - has apparently been warned by several concerned peers that he should stay away from the ravenous Miss Granger._

'_I feel really sorry for Diggory,' says Pansy Parkinson, a pretty and vivacious Fourth-Year student. 'He's not even in my House, but my heart really goes out to him. It's obvious Granger is out to get him; I hope someone's checking his drinks for Love Potion. Everyone is sure that's how she got that Delacour girl to fall for her – she's really ugly.'_

_Love Potions are of course banned at Hogwarts, and no doubt Albus Dumbledore will want to investigate these claims. Miss Granger is widely recognised as a star pupil, but clearly that hard-working and quiet exterior has been hiding her cruel and devious intentions. This reporter hopes that anyone reading this article will stay away from this clearly unstable girl, and that she will stop her feeble attempts at interfering with the Triwizard Tournament before matters become more serious.'_

"I told you!" Ron whispered. "I told you not to annoy Rita Skeeter! She's made you out to be some sort of…of scarlet woman!" Hermione just looked up at Ron, clearly trying to contain her laughter.

"_Scarlet woman?"_ the brunette repeated incredulously. Ron's ears went the same colour as his hair.

"S'what mum calls them…" he mumbled, turning away to hide his embarrassment. A short while later, when they were halfway through brewing their Wit-Sharpening Potions, a thought struck Hermione.

"There is something funny, though…" she mused, pausing from crushing a few scarab beetles. "How could she have known…?"

"Known what?" Ron asked. "You _didn't_ slip Fleur a Love Potion, did you?" Hermione gave him a withering look.

"I'll tell her you said that," she said dangerously, before continuing. "No, it's just…how did she know Fleur asked me to visit her over the summer?"

"She did…?" Ron asked carefully. Hermione nodded, her cheeks reddening slightly.

"On the boat on the way back across the lake," she said. "Apparently her parents are desperate to meet me – she's been owling them, you see. She asked if I was doing anything over the summer, and I said no…" She could tell this was causing Ron a small amount of discomfort. "So…I just need to see what my parents say…" She shook her head and continued, business-like again. "But how did she know? She wasn't there, and if you and Harry didn't hear, no one could have…" She continued to stare at the same spot on the desk, clearly focussing entirely on her thought process. "Maybe she _has_ got an invisibility cloak…but then she would have had to be on the boat itself, and there wasn't enough room. I'll have to ask Fleur if she-"

"Fascinating though your social life undoubtedly is, Miss Granger," Snape's sickly voice interrupted her. "I must ask you not to discuss it in my class. Ten points from Gryffindor." He snatched up the magazine, and gave a cursory look at the page Hermione had been reading. He looked down at her for a moment, then at Harry, then back to Hermione. "Ah…of course…Mr Potter has to keep up on his press cuttings…" He looked back at the article, and Hermione knew he was contemplating reading it aloud. However, he simply decided to fold it up, and looked back down at them. "Well, I think I had better separate the three of you, so you can keep you minds on your potions rather than your tangled love lives…"

For the rest of the lesson, Hermione had to watch with annoyance as Snape continued to provoke Harry from her seat beside Pansy Parkinson. Her mind was abuzz with theories concerning just how Rita Skeeter had managed to overhear the conversation between Fleur and herself. She knew she had to ask about it as soon as they met at dinner, but was interrupted from her thoughts as the door banged open and Igor Karkaroff stomped in, looking his usual murderous self. She heard a short, muttered conversation between him and Snape, and for the rest of the lesson he remained looming behind Snape's desk, doing a very good impression of the Potion teacher himself.

As the lesson came to an end, everyone was slightly faster than usual in leaving; Karkaroff's arrival seemed to have put Snape on edge. Hermione packed up her belongings as quickly as possible and headed out. She could hear a few jeers from the Slytherins, but ignored them. It wasn't until she managed to find Ron at the top of the stairs to the dungeons that they realised Harry hadn't left yet. As the other students headed off, most in the direction of the Great Hall, they were left alone.

"Don't think Snape put him in detention, do you?" Ron asked. Hermione frowned.

"No," she said. "If he was going to do that, he would have done it in front of the class." A few minutes later, Karkaroff stormed up the steps from the dungeons. He paused for a moment, fixing Hermione with a rather intimidating look, before stalking off. Moments later, Harry appeared, clearly having run up the steps. He looked at the two of them.

"You are not going to believe what I've just seen."

**~xxx~**

That evening after dinner, Hermione caught up with Fleur as the French witch was heading back down to the carriage. Bidding her friends goodnight, Fleur followed Hermione to a secluded spot. They shared an embrace and a short kiss before Hermione launched into an explanation of what Harry had told her about Karkaroff. She hadn't been able to mention it during dinner, and had been eager to share the information for the whole meal. When she had finished, Fleur looked pensive.

"I wish I could say I was surprised," she said after a while. "Madame Maxime 'as said a few zings about zat man zat are…unsettling, to say ze least."

"I just wish Harry had seen what it was on his arm," Hermione mused. "But regardless, something's got him scared."

"And when someone as repulsive as 'im is running scared, you can be sure zere is somez'ing seriously wrong," Fleur said. She shook her head and sighed. "I wish I could tell you more…"

"Don't worry about it," the brunette replied. "I've become used to strange things going on around here." She smiled. "Anyway, we have tomorrow to think about."

"Indeed," Fleur replied, giving a smile of her own. "I 'ave been looking forward to it all week. Gabrielle says I am being silly."

"Well," Hermione began, chuckling to herself. "She can think what she likes; personally I can't wait to be out in public with you."

"I just 'ope no one decides to try anything," the blonde replied. "I 'ave seen ze article in zat magazine…"

"Oh…yes…" the younger witch looked away. "I'm really sorry your name is being dragged through the mud with mine…"

"'Ermione!" Fleur snapped. "Do not say such zings! What zat awful woman is doing is not your fault. Besides, my parents would not believe such filth. I 'ave told zem what ze true situation is, and zey believe me." She smiled. "Zey are still very keen to meet you."

"Really?" Hermione was barely able to hide the relief in her voice. Fleur smiled warmly and encircled the other girl's waist with her arms.

"Oui," the blonde replied. "Maman said you sounded like a wonderful person."

"It's nice to have someone who thinks so," Hermione said, forcing a smile. Fleur however, suddenly looked rather miffed.

"Excusez-_moi_," she said irritably. "I am not 'olding you like zis for my 'ealth, you know."

"Oh!" Hermione looked horrified. "Oh, Fleur, I didn't mean…" She looked away, biting her bottom lip. "…it's just, I've become so used to being with you…"

"Bien," Fleur said simply. "It may sound odd, but I am glad you are taking me for granted."

"Fleur, I didn't mean that," the brunette protested. "Wait…you're glad?"

"Oui," Fleur shrugged. "It means you 'ave become used to me. What more could I ask for? You no long zink of me as something special and new; I am just Fleur, your girlfriend."

"Oh Fleur, don't say that; I don't take you for granted," Hermione said. "I could never do that." She smiled. "But you're right, I have got used to you being around…" She placed her own arms around the blonde's waist. "…you have no idea how happy I am whenever I remind myself I'm with you…"

"Mon dieu, 'Ermione you're being raz'er sweet tonight," Fleur chuckled. "Are you after somez'ing?"

"A goodnight kiss would be nice," Hermione said, her smile growing. What she hadn't expected was for Fleur to shove her up against a nearby tree and snog her for a good ten minutes before she was released. When she returned to the Common Room, Ginny only had to take one look at the bushy-haired girl's swollen lips and flushed appearance to know where she had been.

**~xxx~**

The next day, Hermione spent much of the morning in Fleur's company. They were due to head to Hogsmeade at about noon, meeting Harry and Ron in the Entrance Hall beforehand. Hermione still hadn't mentioned Sirius to Fleur; every time she decided to do it, she couldn't work out how to phrase it. 'Don't worry, he's not really a mass murderer, but only us, Dumbledore and an ex-teacher who's a werewolf know that' didn't really sound very convincing. Still, she found it difficult to be worried in Fleur's company. The French witch was almost glowing with excitement, and she seemed to have put extra effort into her appearance; her hair was immaculate and her clothing was almost formal. Hermione was so taken aback by her girlfriend's mood that she didn't have the heart to spoil it for her by mentioning that it was possible they wouldn't be in the town that long. Still, if it came to it, she was sure the two of them could be excused.

They had spent most of their time in the grounds near the Beauxbatons carriage. It had been a crisp morning, but the weather was starting to clear. Fleur had mentioned that contrary to her peers, she was regretting the warming weather, as she would soon have to stop wearing the thick cloak Hermione had given her, as well as the scarf. Hermione didn't mind of course, but it still made her smile to think that this entire time, Fleur had still been wearing that Gryffindor scarf given to her what felt like so long ago.

When the time came to meet their friends, they bid Gabrielle – who had been feeding the Abraxans nearby – farewell, and headed back up to the castle. Harry and Ron were already there, looking rather shifty. The source of their discomfort was revealed when Hermione looked down and saw Harry's bag; there was what looked like a chicken leg sticking out of it. Ron looked at Fleur for a moment before becoming very interested in his feet. It was bizarre; almost as though every time they met, he was reset into a state of awkward embarrassment.

"Did you get everything you need?" Hermione asked, to which Harry nodded, obviously trying to ignore Fleur's curious look. "Well, shall we be off then?"

Mr Filch narrowed his eyes as Fleur presented him with her neatly written permission slip, but didn't say a word. There were a few murmurs from other students, likely regarding the contents of Rita Skeeter's various articles, as they made their way to the village. Fleur hadn't said a word regarding the food sticking out of Harry's bag, opting instead to talk to him about the upcoming Third Task, of which they still knew absolutely nothing. However, Hermione could tell that her girlfriend was still puzzled; she was gripping Hermione's hand ever so slightly tighter than usual. When they reached Hogsmeade, they paused at the top of the street. The village looked the same as ever; wonky rows of pointy-roofed buildings, covered in a light layer of snow. Despite the improving weather, Hogsmeade never seemed to be without snow; Hermione hadn't once seen the place in any other state.

"I'm going to stop off at Gladrags," Harry said. "Get some socks for Dobby – it's the least he deserves after helping with the gillyweed." Hermione glanced at Fleur, who simply seemed to be waiting for them to decide on what to do.

"Right," Hermione replied. "We'll meet you at the end of the High Street in an hour, okay?" Harry nodded, and he and Ron headed off. Hermione turned to Fleur and smiled. "Well then," she said happily. "Here we are."

"And I 'ave you all to myself," Fleur purred, stepping closer and smiling widely. "Do you want to show me ze village or shall we just find a petit spot out of ze way, hm?"

"Perhaps you should see the village first," Hermione replied sweetly, restraining a laugh when Fleur pouted at her words.

"You are no fun, 'Ermione," she said, but once again took her girlfriend's hand and allowed herself to be led down the street. They visited Honeydukes first, but had to leave rather quickly after Ambrosius Flume – the shop's proprietor – overheard Fleur comparing a fresh sample of Wizochoc unfavourably to some of the muggle chocolate she was accustomed to back in France. Hermione couldn't blame her, having tasted it for herself on holiday, but she still gave Fleur a look. She had almost forgotten how forthright Fleur was with some of her views, though admittedly that probably had something to do with the fact that all she ever received from the blonde was praise and adoration. Regardless, Fleur looked nonplussed, and was quite cheerful as they continued on their way.

Among other things, Hermione pointed out The Hog's Head, Dervish & Banges, The Magic Neep, the local branch of Ollivander's Wand Shop, and even Zonko's Joke Shop; mentioning Fred & George's constant use of their products. Fleur seemed very interested in getting a drink at Madam Puddifoot's Tea Shop – a favourite haunt of happy couples – but Hermione reminded her of the time, and the two of them set off towards the end of the street. Harry and Ron were already waiting for them; Hermione could only imagine what looks they had received, as Harry's bag had begun to smell. The four of them headed onwards, following Harry, though Hermione had the distinct impression that he wasn't quite sure where he was going. Indeed, none of them had ventured very far in this direction before. As they continued along the path, the buildings became fewer and further between, until eventually they stopped completely. They reached the end of a small lane, and there, waiting by a stile leading to a snow covered field, was a scruffy black dog. It's ears perked up when it caught sight of them, and it bounded over. It had several rolled-up newspapers in it's mouth, and it paused to look up at Fleur, almost curiously. The part-Veela seemed a little put off by the attention from the animal, and appeared to be on the verge of shooing it away, until Harry spoke.

"It's alright, Sirius," he said. "She's fine." Fleur frowned, and gave Hermione a baffled look. The dog, however, seemed satisfied, and turned away from the blonde. It bounded over the stile and into the field, heading in the general direction of the mountain that overlooked Hogsmeade. Still completely lost, Fleur looked at Hermione again, who just forced a smile, took the French witch's hand again, and led her after Harry and Ron, who were following the dog's path.

"Are you going to explain to me what is going on?" Fleur asked quietly. She sounded almost hurt that Hermione hadn't already informed her. "Zis is raz'er odd."

"You'll find out soon," Hermione replied. "It'll be easier if you just see for yourself."

What Hermione hadn't expected, however, was to end up on a winding trek up the mountain itself that lasted the best part of an hour. As if out of spite, the temperature was getting warmer, and even though she had long since shed her cloak and was carrying it over her shoulder, the weight of it was making her increasingly uncomfortable. The higher they went, the tighter Fleur gripped her hand; Hermione wasn't sure whether it was out of an attempt to keep up, or simply out of annoyance. She couldn't blame her; Hermione had promised her an almost-romantic day out in the village, and instead they were traipsing up a mountain path in the sun following a dog. Eventually, the dog disappeared from view. They paused, and saw a thin gap in the rock face. Exchanging looks for a moment with the others and removing his bag from his back, Harry was the first to squeeze into the gap, shuffling along sideways. The others followed, and Hermione was sure she had heard Fleur cursing in French under her breath.

They emerged into a gloomy cave, and were instantly met with a pair of piecing orange eyes.

"Mon dieu!" Fleur exclaimed. "C'est magnifique!" Buckbeak the Hippogriff regarded her carefully. The blonde had somehow ended up slightly ahead of the others; drawn towards the tethered creature. He let out a loud exhale, and she paused. "Oh, pardon," she said, before giving a low bow to the creature, who after a brief pause, returned it. Hermione was impressed that she knew what to do; she made a mental note to ask if they had been taught about Hippogriffs at Beauxbatons.

The other three did the same, and approached Buckbeak, who was now being stroked gently by Fleur, who seemed to have completely forgotten that she was meant to be irritated. So engrossed was Fleur in the Hippogriff, that she hadn't noticed that the dog had disappeared, nor that in it's place was a rather haggard looking man.

"I wondered if that bitch's stories had some truth in them," Sirius said. Fleur whirled around in alarm, but the man just smiled. "Nice to know it wasn't the part about Viktor Krum."

"Il ne peut pas être…" Fleur backed away, trying to find Hermione with her hand without taking her eyes off of the man in front of her.

"Fleur, it's alright," Hermione protested, stepping forward so she was in between her girlfriend and Sirius. "It's fine, he's on our side."

"_What?"_ Fleur gasped. "'Ermione, zis is Sirius Black!"

"I know who he is," the younger witch replied. "And I also know that he is no more a murderer than you or me."

"But…" Fleur began, but stopped and just sighed. "Zis is obviously somez'ing you will 'ave to explain to me later. Knowing you, it is a long story."

There was an awkward silence, punctuated only by Buckbeak flicking a small bone across the floor with one of his large talons. Eventually, Sirius gave an almost nervous smile. "So…is that chicken I can smell?"

The next hour or so was spent listening to Harry and Sirius discuss the events at the World Cup, and those surrounding the Triwizard Tournament, with a few less than helpful suggestions from Ron. In particular, a lot of interest was placed on Barty Crouch. Sirius recounted the story of Mr Crouch's rise through the Ministry, and of his son's fate in Azkaban. As they talked, Hermione frequently glanced at Fleur. She never spoke, but the part-Veela looked thoroughly engrossed in what was being said. This was the first time she had directly been involved in anything related to the Trio's so-called 'adventures', and clearly the experience was an interesting one. Hermione was grateful that Sirius had acknowledged their trust in Fleur, as he didn't seem to be holding back at all as he continued to recount events involving Voldemort's Death Eaters, and just how close one of Hogwarts' own professors had been to them.

As they reached what appeared to be the end of their discussion, Sirius sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose and leaning back. "What's the time?" he asked. Harry made to check, but his watch didn't appear to be working. Hermione rolled her eyes and pulled out her own – noting the brief glowing look Fleur gave her at the sight of it – and checked.

"It's half past three," she said. Sirius nodded, and got to his feet.

"You'd better get back to school," he said. "Now listen, I don't want you lot sneaking out of school to find me, alright? Just send notes to me here. I still want to hear about anything odd, but you're not to go leaving Hogwarts without permission; it would be an ideal opportunity for someone to attack you." He looked over Harry's head. "Even you, Miss Delacour. Understand?" Fleur nodded, and Hermione felt a small pang of guilt; Fleur being in danger because of her – no matter how vaguely – was not an idea she liked.

"No one's tried to attack me yet," Harry said. "Except a dragon and a couple of grindylows."

"Don't mention ze grindylows," Fleur muttered. "'Orrible little zings…"

"I don't care," Sirius said gruffly to Harry. "I'll breathe freely again when this Tournament's over, and that's not until June." He gave a small smile. "I would wish you luck, but given present company I wouldn't want to be accused of favouritism; I've seen Hermione when she's cross." They all laughed, save for Hermione herself, who just glared. "And don't forget, if you're talking about me among yourselves, call me Snuffles, okay?"

He handed the napkin and flask he had been holding back to Harry. "I'll walk to the edge of the village with you; see if I can scrounge another paper."

Eventually they found themselves back in the village. They each bade Sirius goodbye, before heading back to Hogwarts. Harry and Ron were deep in discussion about Percy and Mr Crouch, and Fleur was once again holding Hermione's hand, but remaining silent. "So…um…I suppose I should have mentioned some of this before today…."

"Oui, you should 'ave," Fleur replied curtly. "'Owever, it cannot be changed now, and at least you did not 'ide it from me when ze time came."

"I never wanted to keep anything hidden from you," Hermione insisted. "It's just…keeping secrets is such an awkward business. Even if you trust someone, does that mean you can tell them anything you've been told?"

"I would tell you anything," the blonde said. "Regardless of 'oo told me, I know I can trust you."

"Oh Fleur…you know I trust you completely…" Hermione sighed. "I'm sorry."

"I accept zat," Fleur said. And finally she smiled. "Now zen, I am going to stay wiz you in your dormitory tonight, and you are going to tell me _everyz'ing_ about all zese adventures you 'ave 'ad…"


	17. Skeeter's Revenge

**Harry Potter and all related characters and places are owned by JK Rowling - I just make them dance for my own amusement.**

**Hm, so much for 'back to business as usual.' Again, I'm really sorry it's taken so long. I have so many things going on - working out what to prioritise is proving difficult. Still, you'll be pleased to know that I have been fleshing out the plots of the sequels to this fic, so I should be able to move straight into those once this one is done.**

**A couple of things: some people pointed out some grammer issues with Ron's dialogue. This is actually intentional - in the books he does indeed use some words that aren't technically correct; it's no different from spelling out certain characters' accents. Secondly, the Time Turner issue in the first chapter. Yes, it would take _a lot_ of turns to get them back that far. Originally there was indeed an explanation for it in the chapter, but it was getting a bit too wordy so I removed it. The explanation _will_ appear later on, don't worry.**

**Anyhoo, back to the story...  
**

**~xxx~**

Fleur's quiet Sunday afternoon was interrupted by the loud bang of a heavy bag being hurled to the floor of her room. She peered over her book curiously, to find a very cross looking Hermione standing in the doorway. Gabrielle was behind the brunette, looking rather worried. Fleur sighed and closed her book, sitting up from her bed.

"What 'as Ronald done zis time?" she asked. So extensive was her knowledge of Hermione's behaviour that it was quite clear what had caused her anger. Fleur had been reading quietly in the Beauxbatons carriage since leaving Gryffindor Tower; her night in Hermione's company had been much the same as the previous one. That is to say, lots of shameless innuendo and attempts at seeing Hermione naked from Fleur, and plenty of coquettish smiles and overly-sweet denials from the brunette. It was all in good fun of course; Fleur was hardly going to force herself on a fifteen year old girl. Still, sleeping beside Hermione had filled her mind with a few less than honourable thoughts.

The bushy-haired girl in question just let out what sounded like a growl and flopped down onto the foot of Fleur's bed. Gabrielle entered and closed the door behind her, looking between the two older girls.

"It's a long story," Hermione eventually said, closing her eyes and massaging her forehead. "It's the house-elves again. We went down to the kitchens to give Dobby his present, and Winky was still there – you remember who that is, don't you?" Fleur nodded. "Well, she was even worse than the last time we saw her, and she's still adamant that she's in the wrong and Mr Crouch was right to fire her. She said something about being trusted with his 'most important secret', but when Harry tried to ask her about it, she just passed out."

"I do not see 'ow-" Fleur began, but Hermione cut her off.

"Oh no, I'm getting to that," she said dangerously. "After she passed out, they put a bloody tablecloth over her!" She threw her hands up, causing Gabrielle to jump. "They said she had no right to be unhappy, and I told them how ridiculous it was, and that they all deserved to feel unhappy, just the same as everyone else." She sighed, and shook her head. "So then they hurried us out, and then Ron started. Said I should have kept my mouth shut. He said we could have asked more about Crouch, but all he really cares about is the stupid food!"

Fleur remained silent for a moment. She sighed and looked away for a moment, placing her book upon the table beside her bed. She gave a small smile, and patted the spot beside here. "Come 'ere." Hermione did as she was told, and found herself pulled onto her side, her head in Fleur's lap. She let out an involuntary noise of surprise, but the blonde just continued to smile serenely. "Now zen, you are not going to zink about zat boy any more, oui?"

"Um…but-"

"Not for one second longer," Fleur continued firmly. She felt Hermione relax and let out another sigh.

"…oh alright," she murmured, closing her eyes. Fleur smiled and placed a gentle hand upon Hermione's shoulder. Gabrielle pulled a face.

"Vous êtes brut," the younger blonde muttered, before quickly leaving. Fleur chuckled.

"She is just jealous zat zere is no one for 'er to cuddle," she said, earning a small laugh from Hermione.

"I can understand why," she said. "You do have an uncanny ability to chase my problems away."

"Non, zat is just your uncontrollable lust, mon amour," Fleur replied with a broad grin. Hermione sat up, glaring at the blonde.

"Do you _ever _stop?" she asked, feigning irritation. The part-Veela just batted her eyelashes.

"Stop what?" Fleur asked sweetly, causing Hermione to just nudge her rather forcefully with her shoulder.

"You know perfectly well what I mean," the brunette said sharply. But she was smiling; the tension had broken, and for now at least her anger had abated. What she had said about Fleur was surprisingly true: just being around the blonde made it hard to focus on other petty annoyances.

They spent the rest of the day together in Fleur's room. Hermione ended up starting some homework, while Fleur continued to read. There was a comfortable silence as they sat; Hermione at the top of the bed, and Fleur laying with her head against her legs. It did mean that Hermione occasionally had to lean over her girlfriend's head, but she didn't seem to mind. After a while, Fleur herself pulled out some of her own work. It struck Hermione that she had never actually seen the blonde doing schoolwork, and couldn't help but keep glancing up at her. She hated herself for thinking it, but the sight of Fleur's ink-stained hands a while later was a surprisingly appealing one. They even had lunch in Fleur's room; apparently the carriage had a small kitchen of it's own, Fleur explaining that some of her fellow Beauxbatons students refused to eat the 'horrible' food from the castle. The brunette watched fondly as Fleur ate, noting the way in which she delicately held her food as though it were made of glass; graceful as always. Putting the deliciously inky digits out of her mind, she focused on her work, and another few hours later finally finished the last paragraph of her Potions essay and set her quill down. She gave a quiet yawn and glanced out of the window, seeing that it was just starting to get dark.

"I should probably get back to the Common Room," she said. "They'll be wondering where I am."

"I doubt it," Fleur replied sleepily. "Zey know you visit." She stretched and sat up. "But I suppose I cannot keep you to myself all day…"

"Oh I don't mind," Hermione said, smiling. "You're hardly bad company."

"'_Ardly bad company?"_ the blonde repeated, an eyebrow raised. "You are such a charmer…"

"Shush, you," the younger witch said playfully, getting to her feet and placing her essay back into her bag. "You may as well come up with me; it won't be long until dinner anyway."

"And we don't want you attacking Ronald as soon as you see 'im, do we?" Fleur teased, standing beside the other girl. She leant down and placed a gentle kiss upon the brunette's lips. "I 'ad a very enjoyable day, 'Ermione."

"Oh…um…you're welcome?" Hermione replied, cheeks going rather rosy. Fleur chuckled and held out her hand for her girlfriend, leading her to the door.

Dinner that night was an awkward affair. Ron and Hermione kept shooting each other dirty looks when the other wasn't looking, and both Fleur and Harry seemed to be constantly watching for any signs that the two were going to attack each other. Ginny seemed to have noticed what was going on, and began a rather forced conversation about Quidditch that at least served to keep Ron from saying something stupid.

**~xxx~**

The next morning, the tension had cleared somewhat, more than likely because Ron's prediction of bad food being sent to the Gryffindor table in retaliation for Hermione's actions turned out to be false. Though he did seem to be tasting each individual piece of food very carefully, as though he was trying to spot any sign that it was not up to it's usual high standard. Hermione herself was ignoring him, and instead had her eyes directed upwards, awaiting the post owls. Ron glanced up at her, having just given a slice of bacon his approval.

"Percy won't've had time to answer yet," he pointed out. "We only sent Hedwig yesterday."

"No, it's not that," Hermione replied. Ron was right; their request for information on Mr Crouch could take another week to arrive, but that wasn't what she was waiting for. "I've taken out a new subscription to the Daily Prophet; I'm getting sick of finding everything out from the Slytherins." Harry and Ginny looked up as well, and Harry pointed.

"Hey, Hermione, I think you're in luck," he said; a large grey owl was heading towards them.

"It hasn't got a newspaper, though," the brunette said, squinting to see that the bird was instead carrying an envelope. "It must be for Fleur." She glanced over her shoulder towards the Ravenclaw table; Fleur had been asked to discuss something related to her schoolwork with a couple of fellow Beauxbatons students, and was sat between them on the other side of the Great Hall. However, the owl landed right in front of Hermione, and held out it's leg expectantly. Before she had time to take it, six more owls rapidly followed, coming dangerously close to landing in their breakfast.

"How many subscriptions did you take out?" Harry asked in bewilderment, moving Hermione's goblet away before it was knocked over. The bushy-haired girl was startled, to say the least.

"What on earth…?" she murmured, reaching forward and taking the grey owl's letter. She opened the envelope, and read the enclosed letter;

'_You are a WickEd giRL. HaRRy PottEr desErves BetteR. gO Back wherE you cAME from mUggle.'_

"Oh, _really!"_ she exclaimed, her cheeks reddening. Ron looked up curiously.

"What's up?" he asked. Hermione just scowled and looked over at him.

"It's…oh, how ridiculous…" Rather than explaining, she just thrust the letter towards her friends. As they read it, she moved onto the next one, which was no better;

'_leavE FleUr delaCour alone. She desERves BeTter than a mUdblood.'_

And the next one was even worse;

_'You aRE a slUT. Go bAck tO the HOLE yoU caME from and lEAve the CHAMPions alone.'_

"They're all like it!" Hermione said miserably, dropping the previous letter back onto the table. She picked up the next one and began to read it aloud. "Look at this one – 'I wish you had died at the bottom of the lake you lesbian whore'" She picked up the second-to-last letter. "And this – 'Stay away from Cedric Diggory: he doesn't need your taint'" She reached for the final envelope, and opened it. However, before she could even remove the letter within, a searing pain shot through her fingers. "Ouch!" She recoiled, holding up her hands; beneath a layer of yellowish green liquid, her skin had begun to erupt into a series of angry yellow boils.

"Undiluted Bubotuber pus!" Ron said, holding up the sodden envelope and giving it a cautious sniff.

Hermione let out a whimper as she tried to wipe the pus off with her napkin; the pain was getting worse and tears were beginning to form in her eyes as she tried in vain to remove the liquid. However, the boils covering her fingers were limiting her movement. She let out a choked sob as she tried in vain to rid herself of the pus, but looked up when there was a loud bang from the other side of the Hall. All eyes turned to the Ravenclaw table, where a rather annoyed looking Fleur Delacour was sat behind the angry orange glow of a shield charm. The air was filled with a thin vapour, and the wall behind the blonde was covered in more Bubotuber pus; the part-Veela must have protected herself just in time. The girls on either side of her appeared to have jumped to the side to avoid the liquid; they were squashed up against their peers, staring in shock at the envelope in front of Fleur.

As her charm dissipated, Fleur looked up, and gave Hermione a look of horror as she took in her girlfriend's hands. Within seconds, she had got to her feet and crossed the Hall to Hermione's side. "Mon dieu, 'Ermione," she breathed, gently taking Hermione's wrists and examining her hands. The brunette didn't seem to want Fleur looking at them, but she didn't dare try to move.

"I…I'm fine…" Hermione said through gritted teeth, trying to maintain her composure.

"Miss Delacour." They looked up to see Professor McGonagall approaching them. Behind her at the staff table, Professor Dumbledore was standing, surveying the scene with an unreadable expression. "Take Miss Granger to the Hospital Wing." She looked down at Harry and Ron. "Mr Potter, tell Professor Sprout where she is." Fleur and Harry both nodded. "Mr Weasley, if you could bring those-" she gestured at the letters "- to my office on the way to Herbology, please."

Taking her gently by the arm, Fleur led Hermione out of the Great Hall. The Brunette could feel the eyes watching them, and kept her own downcast. Not only did she feel utterly humiliated, but once again incredibly guilty that Fleur had been dragged into this too. They turned left and headed up the steps to Grand Staircase. Fleur looked up at the maze of stairs above them, and turned to Hermione. "Is zere a shortcut?" she asked. "We should get you zere as soon as possible."

"Yes…" Hermione winced as she raised a hand to point. "We go down those steps-" Fleur turned to follow Hermione's boil-riddled finger, directed at the right-hand staircase. "-and through the portrait of Damara Dodderidge; there's a shortcut straight to the Clock Tower behind her."

"Down to go up," Fleur mused. "Zis castle makes no sense..." She shook her head and took her girlfriend's arm again. "Allons-y!" They made their way through the portrait – who had now changed her password to 'shepherd's pie' – and eventually emerged at the bottom of the Clock Tower. Fleur gave the large pendulum a wary look as they passed under it to one of the doorways on either side of the archway that led to the Covered Bridge. They climbed a few sets of creaking wooden steps until they reached the First Floor, where they turned off and headed down the corridor towards the Hospital Wing. Hermione gave Fleur a sideways glance; they hadn't spoken the whole way there, and she wondered if something was wrong. Deciding on asking after her hands had been seen to, they pressed on down the sunlit corridor until they reached their destination.

They entered the room quietly, and saw that all the beds were empty – a rare occurrence at Hogwarts. Fleur directed Hermione to a nearby bed and she set on the edge of it. The blonde headed back towards the door and poked her head through, apparently looking for Madam Pomfrey. The nurse in question appeared through a side-door from her office; Fleur looked a bit startled.

"Oh, Miss Delacour," the matron greeted. Judging from her tone of voice, she still remembered the part-Veela's outburst after the First Task. "What are you doing here?"

"It's me, Madam Pomfrey," Hermione spoke up. The nurse turned to face her, and grimaced.

"Miss Granger," she said. "I would have thought you of all people would understand the dangers of Bubotuber pus." The brunette shook her head.

"It wasn't an accident," she explained. "Someone…um…sent it to me."

"Oh for the love of…" Madam Pomfrey said under her breath. "No doubt the work of that Skeeter woman, hm? Riling up her foolish readers…" She bustled back into her office, muttering to herself about people being 'stupid' and 'intolerant.' Fleur sat beside Hermione, and placed an arm around her. The brunette welcomed the contact, and scooted slightly closer.

"Are you alright?" Hermione asked. Fleur turned to her and frowned.

"I should be asking you that," she said quietly. The bushy-haired girl gave a small smile.

"Oh I'll be fine," she replied. "You just seem a bit distracted."

"I suppose…" Fleur began, clearly trying to find the right words. "…I cannot 'elp but blame myself in part for this."

"Don't you dare," Hermione said waspishly. "It's not remotely your fault. Half of them think I'm toying with Harry and Viktor anyway – it wouldn't change anything."

"Zat is true…" the blonde mused. She forced a smile. "Well eiz'er way, I will do my best to protect you."

"Oh?" Hermione chuckled. "Is this the legendary Veela protectiveness coming out?" Fleur gave a toothy grin and placed a quick kiss upon Hermione's nose.

"'Ave you been reading zat book again?" she teased. At that moment, Madam Pomfrey emerged from her office carrying a tray, upon which was a bottle of some teal-coloured potion and a roll of bandages.

"I am afraid there is no instant fix when it comes to Bubotuber pus," she said. Hermione knew all this, but didn't speak up. "But this will help with the stinging and stop it itching later on." The nurse set the tray down beside Hermione, and uncorked the bottle. "You may feel a burning sensation as this soaks in."

Hermione grimaced, and Fleur subconsciously tightened her grip around the younger witch. The brunette held out her hands, and allowed Madam Pomfrey to apply the potion. True to the matron's word, it was considerably painful, but she had suffered worst in the past, and she found a distraction in rather intently counting skin follicles on Fleur's nose. Once the liquid had soaked in, Madam Pomfrey set about bandaging Hermione's hands. She could still barely move them, but the pain had almost completely subsided.

"There we are," the nurse said. She handed Fleur the roll of bandages. "See to it that she changes them at least once a day."

"I will," Fleur replied. She paused for a moment, glancing away briefly. "Also, I would like to apologise. After ze First Task, I was very rude to you…"

"Ah, yes, well…" The matron gave a knowing smile. "Something tells me you had other things on your mind, hm?" And just like that, she snapped back to her usual professional self. "Now away with the both of you." Hermione smiled and got to her feet. As she and Fleur headed out of the door, the nurse called after them. "Oh and Miss Granger, try to make sure Potter doesn't end up in here at the end of the year again. It's becoming something of a bad habit." With another small smile, she closed the door.

"I don't think I have ever seen her smile," Hermione mused. "Must be having a good day."

"Ze room was empty when we arrived," Fleur pointed out, but Hermione just chuckled.

"No injuries before lunchtime," she said. "I suppose that is something of an oddity for this place…" As they headed back down the corridor, Hermione checked her watch. She gave Fleur a sideways glance; the blonde always smiled when she saw Hermione still using her gift. "Herbology is already over; I have Care of Magical Creatures."

"I shall accompany you," Fleur said. Hermione looked up at her.

"You don't need to…" she murmured, her cheeks reddening. She cursed herself for always becoming flustered when Fleur came over all chivalrous on her.

"Well I am going to," the blonde replied. "Now zen, shall we?"

They headed back down through the Clock Tower, and out into the courtyard it overlooked. They passed a few students on the way; Hermione wasn't sure whether they were staring because of her hands, or simply because the fact that she and Fleur Delacour were together was still an alien concept for some. They crossed the Covered Bridge and emerged into the Stone Circle. Hermione could see the class gathered near Hagrid's Hut down the hill; they appeared to be following several small black furry things around. As they approached, Hagrid looked up and greeted them.

"Oh, there y'are, Hermione!" he said happily. He nodded a Fleur, but still didn't quite seem to know what to make of her. Harry and Ron were nearby, watching a pair of the creatures burrowing in and out of the ground. Fleur actually seemed quite taken with them, smiling delightedly when one of them poked it's head out of the soil and blinked up at her. Hermione noticed Pansy Parkinson scowling at them from some distance away, but obviously she didn't dare get any closer when Fleur was around. It was an interesting feeling; Hermione wasn't one to shy from a fight when it was unavoidable, and yet having Fleur looking out for her was far from an unpleasant experience. She smiled, pondering if that meant Fleur was the 'man' of the relationship. No, she decided, Fleur was most definitely as feminine as they came.

Once the class had finished, and the other students had headed back up to the castle, Hermione explained what had happened to her hands at breakfast. Hagrid recounted his own experience with Rita Skeeter-inspired hate mail, and told her to just ignore it. She wondered how he could be so blasé about it, but perhaps that was the best approach, given the state of her hands. As they headed back up the castle, Ron bemoaned the loss of the leprechaun gold, and his inability to compensate Harry properly for his omnioculars. He was gloomy all through lunch, but Hermione had other issues; her bandaged hands were making it rather difficult to hold her cutlery. After dropping her fork for the third time, she found the object taken away from her, and before she could question it, it was raised back up and hovering in front of her mouth. Hermione shot Fleur a look.

"You can't be serious," she said, but the blonde just smiled.

"You need to eat somez'ing," she said. "And lunch will be over before you 'ave 'ad a single bite." She waggled the fork around. "So come on; eat up."

And so Hermione Granger spent her lunchtime being fed by Fleur Delacour. Under the right circumstances, she probably would have enjoyed such an experience. However, as it was, it was difficult to ignore Ginny's sniggering.

**~xxx~**

Following Hagrid's advice, Hermione immediately disposed of any further hate mail that she received over the following week. Fleur received the odd letter too, but nowhere near the same amount as her girlfriend. Of course, there was no easy way for Hermione to dispose of the Howlers she received, and so she was forced to rather uncomfortably focus on her food while ignoring the angry red envelopes hurling abuse at her. The accusations seemed to differ depending on the sender; some accused her of cheating on Harry with Fleur, others the opposite, but most just painted her as a complete harlot that was desperately trying to worm her way into the hearts of as many people as possible.

Harry assured her that it would die down, but he was clearly growing more and more annoyed with having to tell everyone that Hermione wasn't his girlfriend. She had to wonder just how everyone still managed to believe Rita Skeeter's articles, when it was quite obvious she was in a relationship with Fleur; they were often seen together, and the blonde witch still ate most of her meals at the Gryffindor table. Ginny had suggested that people were just using that articles' claims as a way of getting at Hermione; the redhead had discovered there were quite a few groups of extremely jealous students, angry that Fleur Delacour had 'settled' for bookish, boring Hermione Granger.

At the end of a particularly gruelling Defence Against the Dark Arts lesson – Harry's ears were still wiggling – Hermione stayed behind to ask Professor Moody whether he had seen anything suspicious involving Rita Skeeter. The heavily scarred man nodded gruffly.

"Invisibility cloak: that what you're thinking?" he asked. Hermione nodded. "Well I didn't see anything like that, at the judges' table or anywhere near." He shuffled closer to her. "Now listen here, Granger," he said. "This Delacour girl, you trust her, don't you?"

"Of course I do," Hermione said without even pausing.

"Has it occurred to you that she might be where Skeeter's getting all her juicy gossip from, hm?" Hermione looked positively disgusted at the idea. "Oh I know, you think she's a perfect angel that can do no wrong," Moody continued. "But not everyone is like you, Miss Granger. Some people are bad; rotten to the core-" He cocked his head to the side. "-and those are the ones that will do their damndest to appear trustworthy." He turned away, and hobbled across the room. "Older and wiser witches and wizards have been completely taken in by the simplest of tricks; promises of wealth or love; a friendly smile here and there." He turned back towards her. "The Muggles have a saying; 'if it's too good to be true, it probably is' – you'd do well to remember that, Miss Granger."

"Thank you," Hermione said rather stiffly. "I will."

"Off you go then," Moody said, giving what passed for a smile. Hermione left the classroom, partially stunned by Moody's words. She didn't think for a moment that Fleur could be lying to her, but the thought that others were so ready to believe it bothered her greatly.

**~xxx~**

It wasn't until the end of the Easter holdays that they received a reply from Percy regarding Mr Crouch's absence, packaged with Easter eggs from Mrs Weasley. Hermione watched as Harry, Ron and Ginny unpackaged their enormous eggs, each filled with home-made toffee. Ginny hovered beside her uncomfortably for a moment, before placing something on the table in front of her.

"I…I'm sorry," she began. "I think this is yours…" Hermione looked down, and was greeted with the sight of a tiny chocolate egg, smaller than the real one she had had at breakfast. She frowned for a moment.

"Your mum doesn't read Witch Weekly, by any chance, does she?" she murmured, staring rather forlornly at it.

"Yeah," Ron's reply was garbled by a large amount of toffee. "Gets it for the recipes." Hermione nodded slowly, gazing sadly at the tiny egg.

"What is _zat?"_ came an accented voice from behind them. Ginny looked up.

"Ummm…an egg from my mum…" she said, almost apologetically. Fleur wrinkled her nose at it.

"Well move it out of ze way, so I can put zis down," the blonde said. Hermione looked up just in time to see Fleur lean forward and place an absolutely enormous wrapped box in front of her. She stared at it in amazement.

"Fleur, what's this?" she asked. The French witch slid into her seat beside Hermione.

"A gift from ma mère," the part-Veela replied, smiling. "For you."

"For me…?" Hermione echoed, baffled. She pulled out her wand and neatly removed the wrapping. Beneath it was a simple cardboard box.

"I zink it is a Muggle delivery box," Fleur said, noting the 'this way up' stamp on it. "I zink zat is the largest one she could find at short notice." She smiled again. "Open it." Getting to her feet so she could actually get to the top of the box, Hermione opened the flaps at the top, and peered into it. What she saw brought a huge grin to her face. Like Mrs Weasley, Fleur's mother had sent her an egg. The difference being that it was so large, Harry and Ron could have placed their own eggs inside it and there would still be room to spare. She levitated the enormous egg out of the box, and moved the box to the floor. Using both hands, she took her egg and examined it. Far from being simply a large chocolate egg, it was immaculately detailed. The egg itself was crafted from white chocolate, with elaborate patterns in milk and dark chocolate covering it. In the centre, a crest that she assumed to represent the Delacour family sat, also crafted from various types of chocolate.

"Bloody hell…" Ron breathed, looking up in amazement at the egg. "You could fit a whole house-elf in it." Hermione just raised an eyebrow at Ron's choice of words, and turned to Fleur.

"But…why?" she asked. "You parents haven't even met me."

"True, but zey know a great deal about you," the blonde replied. "And zey know you are 'aving an 'ard time of it at ze moment." She smiled brightly. "So 'ere you are."

"Remind me to send her a thank you…" Hermione said, turning the egg in her hands. Fleur's eyebrows shot up.

"Excusez _moi_," she snapped. "I gave it to you, where is my thanks?" Hermione laughed and shook her head.

"You didn't make it," she pointed out sweetly. "But I suppose I can spare you this…" She leant over and gave Fleur a brief kiss. There was a wolf whistle from Fred or George, silenced immediately by a glare from Ginny. Hermione looked back at the egg, which was starting to make her arms hurt.

"It almost seems a shame to eat it," she mused. "You realise I'm going to need some help…"

**~xxx~**

That evening, Fleur and Hermione were both laying upon the brunette's bed. Both of them had their trousers unbuttoned, and were completely motionless.

"Why…why did we…" Hermione tried to say, before giving up.

"I never want to see another bar of chocolate for as long as I live…" Fleur murmured.

"We should have…should have divided it up…" the younger witch managed, her head lolling to the side to look at the other girl. Fleur chuckled.

"But it was good, non?" she asked, and Hermione gave a small nod. She reached over and placed an arm over Fleur as best she could. Immediately, the blonde grabbed it and moved it upwards. "Not ze stomach," she grunted, and Hermione laughed.

"Thank you," she said. Fleur looked up curiously.

"What for?" the blonde asked. Hermione awkwardly propped herself up on her elbow.

"For everything," the bushy-haired girl replied. "Just…everything…"


	18. Last Dance

**Harry Potter and all related characters and places are owned by JK Rowling - I just make them dance for my own amusement.**

**Surprise! Well, you guys waited long enough for the last one, so I thought I'd get this one out as quick as possible. Plus it serves as a nice way of getting the plot in the right place for the next chapter.  
**

**~xxx~**

Over the following month, the hate-mail mostly subsided. Hermione was sure that all it would take is another Skeeter article for something to flare up again, but she was enjoying not having to put up with ignoring Howlers over breakfast. As the usual flow of classes and homework continued, she began to think more and more of what would come after the end of term. A nagging worry about her parents' reaction to Fleur was beginning to creep into the back of her mind; she wondered whether she should even tell them. They didn't need to know they were in a relationship to allow her to visit France over the holidays; in fact knowing that their daughter was in a relationship with someone two years her senior, and that that person was a girl, could give them reason to _not_ allow her to go.

She contemplated discussing the matter with Fleur, but after seeing how happy the blonde was with the prospect of Hermione's visit, she didn't dare bring it up. The part-Veela had taken to listing off all the things they could do over the Summer, and had even been found regaling some of her Beauxbatons friends with praise for Hermione, something that still clearly baffled them. Hermione couldn't help but smile at the thought; she herself was still not quite used to the fact that such a popular girl wanted to be with her. But then again, the Fleur she knew wasn't the same one that most others saw. She had met Fleur with her guard down, all those years ago, and that was the Fleur she was in love with. She was under no illusions that Fleur's perceived 'snobbishness' was entirely fabricated; she knew first-hand the sort of scorn the blonde witch reserved for that which did not meet with her approval. But the fact that Fleur would often hold her tongue, or try to see things from Hermione's point of view, was something she was grateful for. After all, if the egg she had received from Fleur's mother was anything to go by, as a Delacour she was used to the finer things in life.

It was startling for Hermione to realise just how far she would go to defend her girlfriend; she had always loathed those who looked down on others, believing that ignorance was no excuse. And yet with Fleur, she was willing to accept some up her defects as products of her upbringing. She had fallen completely for the part-Veela, and fallen hard. She wasn't sure whether to be elated or terrified by the idea, but a mixture of both seemed the most appropriate thing to settle on.

At dinner one night in the last week of May, Fleur informed Hermione that she and Harry had been asked to go down to the Quidditch pitch that night. While she just accepted it, Hermione had to admit that she had almost forgotten completely about the entire reason Fleur was even there – the Triwizard Tournament. There was still one more task left, and it was likely to be the most dangerous yet. After dinner, Fleur followed them back up to Gryffindor Tower, where they spent the next couple of hours sat in front of the fire, talking about various subjects. Ron was impressed to find that Fleur had some knowledge of Quidditch, and Hermione found herself dozing off in the blonde's lap before long. At half past eight, the two Champions headed down to the grounds, leaving Hermione had to fend off amused accusations from both Ron and Ginny that she had been groping Fleur in her sleep.

**~xxx~**

After their 'preview' of the maze, Harry, Fleur and Cedric exchanged nervous looks. They were well aware of the sort of creatures Hagrid could come up with for a task such as this. Only Viktor was in blissful ignorance of the game-keeper's fondness for dangerous animals. As they began to leave, it was quite noticeable that Ludo Bagman was trying to get Harry's attention. Fleur gave the man a look of distaste, but was distracted when Viktor tapped Harry on the shoulder.

"Could I haff a vord?" he asked. "You too, Fleur."

"Yeah, all right," Harry replied, sounding relieved at a chance to get away from Bagman. Fleur nodded, and paused so the other two could catch up.

"Vill you valk vith me?" Viktor continued, gesturing away from the path the others were taking.

"Okay…" Harry said, sounding a bit nervous now. Bagman looked dismayed.

"I'll wait for you, Harry, shall I?" he asked, but Harry forced a smile and shook his head.

"No, it's okay Mr Bagman," the bespectacled boy said. "I think we can find the castle on our own, thanks." Bagman gave a glum nod, and followed Cedric back towards the castle. Krum led them in the other direction, but towards the forest, rather than the Durmstrang ship. Harry and Fleur gave each other confused looks as they continued past Hagrid's hut and the Beauxbatons carriage.

"Viktor, why are we going all ze way out 'ere?" Fleur asked.

"Don't vont to be overheard," he replied. Eventually he stopped just at the edge of the forest, and turned to face Harry. "I vant to know vot there is between you and Hermy-own-ninny."

"_What?"_ Harry and Fleur asked in unison. The dark-haired boy gave Fleur a look of shock.

"Fleur, you know I-" Harry began, but the blonde cut him off.

"Of course I know zere is nothing between you," she said, before turning to Viktor. "Zat 'orrible Skeeter woman has been making up lies, Viktor. About all of us!"

"We're just good friends," Harry continued. "She's happier than I've ever seen her; why would I even try to ruin that for her? Besides, she's like a sister to me, I wouldn't ever think of her in that way." Krum nodded slowly. He seemed slightly happier.

"I am sorry if I offended," he said. "I should not haff given thought to such things."

"It's fine," Harry said. Fleur on the other hand still looked a little affronted, but nodded anyway.

"I hope you treat her vell," Viktor said to Fleur, who just scoffed.

"Zat is exactly what I 'ave been doing," she said. "People seem more willing to believe what zey see in ze newspaper over what zey can see with their own eyes!"

As Krum and Fleur talked, something caught Harry's eye. He squinted through the darkness, and stepped a little further into the trees. Through the gloom and slight mist, he could see a small object that most definitely didn't belong there.

"'Arry?" Fleur asked, peering round Viktor to see what the younger boy was doing. "What is it?"

Harry shook his head, and pulled out his wand. The other two began to follow, perplexed by the youngest Champion's behaviour. As they followed, it became clear what he had seen; a black bowler hat, sat alone amongst the undergrowth. It seemed oddly familiar. Harry gave the other two a puzzled look, and continued on past the hat. Fleur and Viktor pulled out their wands as well, and drew level with Harry, who suddenly raised a hand do his head, clearly in some discomfort. A few more steps later, and they came upon a startling sight. Slumped beneath a tree, cold and lifeless, was a body. It was Mr Crouch.

**~xxx~**

"Fleur?" Hermione called. "Fleur, are you alright?"

The blonde looked up slowly, her eyes not quite meeting Hermione's. She sighed, and looked back out across the lake. Harry, Ron and Hermione had left the castle very early to inform Sirius of what had happened via owl, and had come across the Beauxbatons Champion alone on the Covered Bridge, leaning against the edge of it and looking out at the landscape. Hermione drew closer, concern etched onto her face. Fleur let out another sigh and closed her eyes.

"I 'ave never seen a dead body before…" she said quietly, swallowing uncomfortably. Hermione didn't know what to say. She herself had never seen such a thing either, but she noted with a slight sickening feeling that the thought didn't seem as alien to her as it probably should do. They had come close to danger so many times before that it didn't seem like such a shocking thing. It made her feel awful; Fleur was the older of them, and yet it was Hermione that was more comfortable with the idea.

She reached forward and placed a hand upon Fleur's shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze. The blonde tensed for a moment, before relaxing slightly. "Do you want to talk-"

"Non," Fleur interrupted. "Non, I am fine, 'Ermione." She looked up. "Or I will be, at least."

"Alright," Hermione said, nodding. She turned to Harry and Ron. "You two can go back to the castle, I'll be up later." They nodded and left, leaving the two girls alone.

"Per'aps I am not suited for your adventures," Fleur mused. Hermione stepped closer and wrapped her arms around the blonde, resting her chin upon her shoulder.

"Fleur, you fought a dragon," she reminded her. "You're hardly lacking in bravery."

"But zat was different," the part-Veela said. "I never really considered ze danger…I just assumed zey would not allow us to come to 'arm…" She forced a smile. "And I was trying to impress you."

"You don't even need to try," Hermione said, tightening her hold on the other girl's waist. "You're the most amazing person I've ever met, and I love you."

"Mmm it feels good to 'ear you say zat," the French witch said, shifting comfortably in Hermione's embrace. Her head still resting upon Fleur's shoulder, Hermione leant it against her girlfriend's.

"I'll say it as much as you want me to," she said, smiling warmly. "Now come on, let's go get some breakfast."

**~xxx~**

In a similar situation to the preparation for the Second Task, Hermione found her time becoming split between helping both Harry and Fleur, on the condition that she didn't intentionally tell one of them what the other had been researching. She preferred practicing with Fleur; not just because it meant she could spend time with her, but also because Madame Maxime had set aside a room within the Beauxbatons carriage for them to work in. When it came to helping Harry, they had resorted to sneaking into empty classrooms, something Hermione obviously disapproved of. The one downside to working with Fleur was that she had to act as her girlfriend's 'victim' for her various spells and hexes, though hearing the blonde's rather suggestive promises of kissing her bruises better made it worth it.

Hermione became even more concerned after Harry's experience with Dumbledore's Pensieve. Despite the wealth of information Harry had discovered, it raised more questions than it answered. Harry was of course even more convinced that Snape was rotten after discovering he was once a Death Eater, but for Hermione, Dumbledore's trust was enough to believe he had changed. But of course, the biggest cause for concern was Dumbledore's thoughts on Voldemort, and that he was getting stronger. She had so many things to worry about that she was finding it difficult to separate them into separate thoughts. Harry and Fleur were in danger in the Tournament, they were all in danger from Voldemort, did he or his supporters have anything to do with Harry's name being put into the Goblet, did he directly order the attack on the World Cup, how soon were things going to come to a head.

Deciding that all this was going to do was give her a constant headache, she forced her other worries to the back of her mind and focussed on helping Harry and Fleur prepare. Getting Harry and Fleur through the Third Task was her top priority; everything else could be worried about afterwards. After all, under Dumbledore's protection they could at least enjoy a certain degree of security. So focussed was she on this task that she even forgot a piece of homework for Professor Vector, though the teacher accepted her lie that she had left it in the Common Room, without question; who would doubt the word of Hermione Granger, after all?

**~xxx~**

The night before the Third Task, Fleur had asked to meet Hermione in the Entrance Hall after dark. The brunette would have asked to borrow the invisibility cloak, but Harry had already gone to bed. He had seemed fairly confident, but she couldn't tell whether it was genuine or just a way of keeping his nerves in check. Either way, she was relatively confident of his preparedness; there would always be more he could have done, but he had survived some pretty hairy situations with no preparation at all. As for Fleur, Hermione had to admit from an unbiased point of view that the blonde was easily more prepared than Harry was. But at the end of the day, that was to be expected; as she often forgot, Fleur was two years older than them; what they considered advanced magic, she practiced on a daily basis.

As the brunette stepped into the Entrance Hall, she noticed a thin beam of light running across the floor. Following it to it's source, she noticed that the doors to the Great Hall were open a crack. With no sign of Fleur, her curiosity won out and she crept over to them, peering through into the room beyond. She couldn't see anyone at first, but after a moment a figure crossed her vision, and there was no mistaking those blue robes and silvery-blonde hair. She pushed the door open, and Fleur looked up.

"I was beginning to wonder if you were coming or not," the French witch said, smiling brightly. "Close ze door."

Hermione did as she was told, but gave Fleur a perplexed look. "You do realise students aren't allowed to be in here after dark, don't you?"

"Oh do not worry yourself," the blonde said, waving her hand dismissively. "If we are found, I shall mysteriously lose my grasp of English and try to tell them zat I got lost."

"It would almost be worth getting caught to see that," the brunette said, giving a small smile. She stepped further into the hall, and noticed a small stool was positioned in the middle of the room, upon which sat a gramophone; nowhere near as extravagant as the one used by Professor McGonagall during the students' dance lessons. The long house tables had been moved to the sides of the room, leaving a large empty area in the middle of it. "What's all this for?" Hermione asked, gesturing at the emptied hall. Above them, several of the usual candles were hovering, casting them in a dim but warm light.

"So inquisitive…" Fleur teased. She stepped across the room to Hermione's side. "Well, tomorrow is an important day…" Her smile faded somewhat, and she cast her eyes up to the enchanted ceiling, taking in the dark clouds that almost entirely obscured the night sky. "I 'ave zis feeling zat zings will not be ze same after tomorrow…"

"What do you mean?" Hermione asked, rather concerned at her girlfriend's tone of voice.

"I cannot fully describe it," the blonde said, turning to face the other girl. "Per'aps it is just nerves." She smiled again. "Eiz'er way, I wanted to take zis chance to zank you for everyz'ing." She stepped closer and took Hermione's hands within her own, stroking them gently with her thumbs. "When I first arrived 'ere, I could not believe it was you. When we met in France, I never dreamed zat you would affect me in ze way you did." She paused, and looked away for a moment, her cheeks reddening slightly. "I zought I was childish for falling in love at such a young age, and wiz someone even younger, but…" She looked up again, her piercing blue eyes fixed on Hermione's. "You are ze most important zing in my life, 'Ermione. Zat will never change."

"Oh, Fleur…" Hermione's own chocolate-coloured eyes were shining with tears. "Fleur, I feel the same." She made to embrace the other girl, but the blonde stopped her. Hermione looked confused, but Fleur smiled. She stepped over to the gramophone and tapped it with her wand. The record that was in place began spinning, and Fleur immediately placed the needle upon it.

After a momentary crackling, the hall was filled with music. Hermione listened for a moment, before letting out a gasp of surprise. "Fleur, that's…"

"Ze music zey played at ze start of ze Yule Ball," the blonde said. "I 'ad to pester Professor Flitwick for a week before 'e told me ze name of ze piece." She stood upright and offered Hermione her hand. "Mademoiselle Granger, may I 'ave zis dance?"

Hermione smiled widely. "Always."

As they slowly twirled around the room, Hermione couldn't help but feel utterly content. The room may have looked nothing like it had the night of the Yule Ball, and the hundreds of onlookers were missing, but the most important aspect was still there. She allowed herself to take in everything about the girl in front of her; her scent – a definite hint of vanilla; the way her hair, again free from it's ponytail, moved with them as they danced; the way her cerulean eyes twinkled in the candlelight. As they continued, she tightened her hold on the other girl. Fleur looked up curiously, and saw that again tears were filling Hermione's eyes.

"What is wrong?" she asked. Hermione just shook her head and continued to dance.

"Nothing…" she said, her voice rather quiet. "Just…I love you, Fleur Delacour. That's the only way I can say it." She paused, and the two of them slowly came to a stop. However, she made sure her arms stayed upon the other girl. "I…I may not always express it as much as you want, and I know you're much more experienced with this than I am…"

"Zat is not true," Fleur said softly, reaching up and stroking Hermione's cheek. "You are ze first person I 'ave ever been wiz, 'Ermione. And ze only one I ever want to be wiz."

"It's just…you act so confident all the time; so mature," the brunette continued.

"'Ermione, _you_ are ze mature one," Fleur countered. "You know better zan anyone zat all zat upper-class nonsense is not me."

"I suppose…" Hermione sighed, and cast her eyes downward. "Just know that if…if I don't act how you want…"

"'Ermione," Fleur said sternly, but the other girl ignored her.

"I could change, if you wanted me to, I could-"

"'_Ermione,_ stop," the blonde snapped. She placed her hands on either side of Hermione's arms, holding her firmly. "Listen to what you are saying; you are one of ze most strong-willed and proud people I know, and now you are quaking like a petit fille!" Hermione looked away, her cheeks burning. "I love you just ze way you are. If you changed, you would not be my 'Ermione anymore."

"Okay…" the younger witch sighed, and looked up. "Okay… It's just…sometimes I still find it hard to believe that someone like you wants to be with me."

"Zis again?" Fleur asked, shaking her head. "'Ermione, I love you. Just as you are. And zat is zat."

By now, the record had long since finished, filling the room with a quiet clicking as the needle continued to replay the last second of the recording. Still ignoring it, Fleur leaned down and gently kissed the other girl. Tightening their embrace, Hermione returned it hungrily, desperate to forget her momentary breakdown a few moments prior. They stayed like that until, as always, air became an issue. Both flustered, they hadn't noticed the door to the Hall open, until someone cleared their throat.

They both looked at the source of the noise, and Hermione was alarmed to see Professor Dumbledore standing in the doorway.

"Professor, I…" she started, but couldn't find any words.

"Miss Granger, you are well aware of school rules," he said, his eyes twinkling. Hermione looked petrified, but the headmaster just smiled. "So if you could kindly extinguish those candles when you are done, that would be splendid." He turned to Fleur, and gave a nod. "Good evening, Miss Delacour." And with that he left, closing the door behind him.

Hermione breathed a sigh of relief, but Fleur just laughed. The younger girl shook her head and glared. "Oh like you weren't scared too," she said, before she broke into a grin.

They stayed there for a few minutes more, before Hermione helped Fleur move the tables back into place and – as Dumbledore had requested – extinguished the candles. With one last kiss, Hermione bade Fleur goodnight, and watched as she headed down across the grounds to the carriage. Still, she couldn't help but ponder Fleur's words in regard to the next day. A nagging fear festering in the back of her mind, she made her way back to Gryffindor Tower, where she sank into a fitful sleep.


	19. The Third Task

**Harry Potter and all related characters and places are owned by JK Rowling - I just make them dance for my own amusement.**

**This chapter is not only the longest of this story, it is by far the longest I have ever written for anything I've ever done. We're on the home stretch now, guys.  
**

**~xxx~**

The morning of the Third Task, Hermione awoke with an uncomfortable knot in the pit of her stomach. Despite all the preparation she had helped with, she couldn't help but feel as though the task had crept up on her. There was so much more they could have prepared; so many things she had wanted to do before it. She had awoken several times during the night; constantly shifting in a vain attempt to get comfortable and settle. She had had a rather bizarre dream during one of her brief spells of sleep; it was already fading fast, but she was sure she had been somewhere in the Hogwarts grounds at night. It had been cold and windy, and she had been hiding, though she couldn't remember why. And there had been two people talking, but their voices were so distant that she could no longer place them. Desperately trying to recall any possible detail of it, she sat up and rubbed the sleep from her eyes.

The brunette felt oddly disconnected from the other Gryffindor girls as she dressed and headed down to the Common Room. She met Harry and Ron and they headed down to breakfast, which was a great deal noisier than usual, especially at the Gryffindor table. Unsurprisingly, Fleur was sat with her fellow Beauxbatons students. She caught Hermione's eye as the younger witch headed to her own table, and gave a small smile. Hermione wished she had the heart to return it properly.

She wondered how so many people could act so cheerful. But, she supposed grimly, to them it was just an entertainment; they didn't have as much to lose if someone was hurt – or worse – in the Tournament. Unlike the previous tasks, where she had felt rather numb to the noise that filled the hall, this time she was acutely aware of it. Groups of girls giggling as they wished Krum and Cedric good luck, people practicing their chants and cheers, excited First Years speculating on what the task would involve. It should have been a wall of sound, but somehow she found herself able to make out every individual line of conversation around her.

Deciding that a drink would calm her nerves, she immediately reached for a goblet of pumpkin juice and took a rather large mouthful of it, earning a raised eyebrow from Ginny. A few minutes later, the post arrived, including Hermione's copy of the Daily Prophet. Taking another gulp of pumpkin juice, she unfolded the paper, and immediately showered it with her drink.

'_HARRY POTTER: DISTURBED AND DANGEROUS'_

"What?" Harry and Ron asked in unison, but Hermione shook her head and tried to fold the paper back up; Harry didn't need this, on today of all days.

"Nothing!" she said quickly, but Ron managed to grab the paper from her unfolded it himself. His expression mirrored Hermione's.

"No way," he said. "Not today. That old _cow."_

"What?" Harry pressed. "Rita Skeeter again?"

"No," Ron said, his speech mirroring Hermione's as he attempted to hide the paper by sliding it back towards her.

"It's about me, isn't it?" the dark-haired boy continued, but Ron just carried on shaking his head unconvincingly.

"No," he repeated, nervously edging the paper even further away. At that moment, a shout came from the direction of the Slytherin table; the unmistakable drawl of Draco Malfoy.

"Hey, Potter!" he called. "_Potter!_ How's your head? You feeling alright? Sure you're not going to go berserk on us?"

"Let me see it," Harry said, turning back to Ron, sounding rather resigned. "Give it here." Ron gave Hermione a nervous look, and after a moment she nodded. Better he read it himself than hear it from a group of sneering Slytherins; that was the very reason she had subscribed to the paper in the first place. Ron handed him the paper, and as he read, Hermione chanced another look over at Fleur. The blonde was chatting rather animatedly to her sister. They were both smiling about something, and Hermione couldn't help but wonder just how her girlfriend was able to act so casual. Then again, she was well aware of how easily Fleur could hide herself beneath a façade of confidence.

"Gone off me a bit, hasn't she?" Harry said, sounding almost amused, as he folded the paper back up.

"How did she know your scar hurt in Divination?" Ron asked, his brow furrowing. "There's no way she was there; there's no way she could've heard-"

"The window was open; I opened it to breathe," Harry reminded him. Hermione rolled her eyes.

"You were at the top of the North Tower!" she said irritably, her built-up tension showing through. "Your voice couldn't have carried all the way down to the grounds!"

"Well you're the one who's supposed to be researching magical methods of bugging!" Harry snapped. "You tell me how she did it!"

"I've been trying!" the brunette replied, noting that a few people nearby were starting to stare. She took a deep breath in an attempt to calm down. "But I…but…" And then it came to her; _bugging_. It all made sense. She ran the information through her well-oiled brain to make sure everything checked out; Hagrid had been talking to Madame Maxime surrounded by bushes; there had been a beetle in her hair after the Second Task; Malfoy had looked as though he was using a walkie-talkie under that tree; Harry had opened a window in Divination…

"Are you alright?" Ron's voice snapped her back to reality. Hermione blinked.

"Oh, yes…" she said quietly, a smile forming on her face. "I've had an idea. Just give me two minutes in the library – just to make sure!" She scrambled to her feet and grabbed her schoolbag.

However, before she could even begin making her way from the Great Hall, Professor McGonagall cleared her throat rather loudly behind her. "Just a moment, Miss Granger," she said. Hermione stopped immediately and turned on the spot. "Potter," the teacher began, turning to Harry. "The Champions are congregating in the Trophy Room after breakfast."

"But the task's not 'til tonight!" Harry protested, nearly dropping his food in surprise. McGonagall raised an eyebrow.

"I'm aware of that, Potter," she said curtly. "The Champions' families are invited to watch the final task, you know. This is simply a chance for you to greet them." She turned back to Hermione. "Miss Granger, you are to attend as well."

"But…Professor," Hermione spluttered. "I have an exam first lesson."

"Which Professor Dumbledore is confident you could complete in your sleep," McGonagall said. "In any case, you will be completing your own paper tomorrow, before your Arithmancy examination."

Before Hermione could protest further, the professor left, and they exchanged confused looks. "Why do they want me there?" Hermione asked. Harry just shrugged.

"I don't know why she wants me there either," he said. "She doesn't expect the Dursleys to turn up, does she?"

"Dunno," Ron replied, getting up and slinging his bag over his shoulder. "I'd better hurry, I'm going to be late for Binns. I'll tell him where you are, Hermione." She nodded, and watched Ron disappear into the throng of students heading to class. Once the Hall was almost completely empty, they saw Fleur, Cedric and Krum head through the door near the staff table. Hermione made to join them, but paused when she saw that Harry wasn't following; he hadn't even got up yet.

"Harry, come on," she said. He just shook his head.

"You go," he said rather glumly. "There's not exactly going to be anyone here for me."

"Well I'm not going down there on my own," Hermione replied, giving the door a nervous glance. "I don't even know why they want to see me, so come on."

At that moment, Cedric's head poked through the doorway. "Come on, you two, they're waiting for you!" Harry looked completely baffled, but got to his feet. Hermione led the way to the door, through which Cedric had disappeared again. By the time they went through it, Cedric was already out of sight. Exchanging a final look, they descended the stairs down to the underground room.

"Can you find out what they want me for?" Hermione asked. She was still rather confused as to why she had been asked to attend, and didn't fancy embarrassing herself in front of a room full of strangers. Harry nodded, and stepped through the door. Hermione positioned herself so she could watch through the door without being seen, and watched as Harry nervously crossed the room; he was evidently looking at the other Champions. He paused as he looked at something just out of Hermione's view, and then he pointed at the doorway. Before she even knew what was happening, an arm burst through the gap in the doors, and pulled her into the room.

She barely had time to register that it was Fleur who had grabbed her, before she felt herself enveloped in a tight hug. "'Ermione!" a voice cried happily, and it most certainly wasn't Fleur's. Her vision was obscured by the shoulder of whoever was hugging her, and as they pulled back, Hermione saw who it was embracing her. It was Fleur; but it wasn't. She was older, slightly taller, a few faint lines around her eyes. That, and the real Fleur was now standing to the side, watching with amusement. "Oh it is so good to finally meet you," the woman said. "My petit Fleur 'as told us so much about you!"

"Madame…Delacour…?" Hermione said slowly, hoping she had assumed correctly. The woman waved her hand.

"Oh, call me Apolline," she said, smiling widely at her. She placed her hands on the girl's shoulders and looked her up and down. "Oh you 'ave no idea 'ow good it is to finally meet my daughter's mate."

"Uh…'mate'?" the brunette repeated nervously, glancing over at Fleur. But before Apolline's daughter could say anything, a man with a pointed black beard stepped forward.

"You will 'ave to forgive my wife," he said. "She is very fond of using Veela terms." Hermione looked him over; he was shorter than his wife, and admittedly it was obvious that Fleur had received her looks from her maternal side. Her father was rather plump, but he had a kind face, and Fleur's broad smile; there was no mistaking that toothy grin. He extended his hand and Hermione rather hesitantly shook it; she was still rather taken aback by the onslaught of affection from Fleur's parents. "It is a pleasure to meet you," Mr Delacour continued. "As Apolline 'as said, we 'ave 'eard a great deal about you."

"All good, I hope," Hermione said, managing a small smile. It was a weak response, but the only one she could manage.

"To receive praise at all from Fleur is a rare zing," Apolline said, shooting her daughter a look. The younger Delacour just narrowed her eyes. "And she 'as described you as noz'ing short of perfect."

"Oh I'm nowhere near," Hermione replied, feeling rather guilty at receiving such high praise. "But…" She smiled warmly at Fleur. "…she does make me feel like I am, sometimes."

Fleur positively glowed, but before her mother could respond, another voice spoke up. "Maman, j'ai besoin d'aller à la salle de bains." Hermione hadn't even noticed Gabrielle hiding behind Apolline until she spoke up; she appeared to be burrowing into her mother's robes. Apolline turned to her husband.

"Louis, pouvez-vous prendre Gabrielle à la salle de bains?" she asked. Mr Delacour nodded and held his hand out for their daughter.

"Allons-y, Gabrielle." The youngest Delacour took her father's hand and allowed herself to be led away. She seemed very pleased to be back with her parents again. Apolline turned back to Hermione, and continued smiling.

"You are a little shorter zan I expected," she said. "But I suppose if my Fleur will go 'ounding young girls…"

"Maman!" Fleur gasped, looking aghast. "Cela n'est-" She paused, and started again. "Zat is not true."

"Oh I know," Apolline chuckled. "I am just teasing. Sometimes it does you good to 'ave a taste of your own medicine, non?"

"Fleur is very good at teasing," Hermione agreed, smirking at her girlfriend's frown. "It's one of her favourite hobbies…"

"You two are being 'orrible to me," Fleur huffed, turning her nose up at them. Hermione chuckled at her girlfriend's protests. "You 'ave not even asked me 'ow I am."

"You do not look unwell," Apolline said casually. "Is zere somez'ing wrong?" The youngest witch had to cover her mouth to quell her laughter; Apolline really was just an older version of Fleur, right down to her merciless sarcasm and teasing nature. Hermione's girlfriend just folded her arms and glared.

For the first time since entering the room, Hermione let her eyes wander. She spotted Harry, and was surprised to see him conversing with Mrs Weasley. She smiled; Ron's mother was as good as Harry's. But it faded when she remembered the tiny egg she had received on Easter, and she became instantly grateful that Mrs Weasley was far too busy fussing over Harry to notice her. Fleur and her mother followed her gaze curiously.

"Is zat Ronald's moz'er?" Fleur asked, and Hermione gave a nervous nod; she could almost feel the anger radiating from the other girl. "And zat man wiz zem? Zat cannot be 'is faz'er."

"No, I think that's Bill," Hermione said. "One of his older brothers."

"Hm," the blonde shook her head. "I do not like ze way 'e looked at me when I came in." She turned to the other girl. "Per'aps we could go somewhere else?"

"Um…" Hermione was a little taken aback at being handed the decision. "Well, would you like a tour…? When the others are back, that is. And only if you want to! …um…"

"Zat would be lovely," Apolline said with a nod. "Ah, and 'ere zey are." They looked over at the door, through which Fleur's father and Gabrielle had just arrived. When they told Gabrielle that she had to go back up the stairs again, she didn't look very pleased.

**~xxx~**

They had been touring the grounds for an hour or so before Hermione even realised that technically speaking she should have been in her next lesson, but she didn't dare just leave when Fleur's parents seemed so taken with her. She had to wonder just what Fleur had told them about her; just how could her traits have been exaggerated to such a point that they gave such a reaction. But perhaps it was a Veela thing; maybe the very fact that Fleur was with her proved her 'worth.' She showed them the various points of interest around the grounds; the Whomping Willow, which drew raised eyebrows from Fleur's parents; the Beauxbatons carriage, which Mr Delacour had apparently helped fund the construction of; and the lake, where Hermione wasted no time in recounting Fleur's rescue of her. Seeing the smile that came to her girlfriend's face, the brunette decided to leave out the fact that she and the other hostages had been completely safe. Fleur's parents approved of this romanticised version of events, and her mother spent the next ten minutes gushing about 'true love' and that they were 'meant to be.' As they went about, Hermione noticed that Harry seemed to be doing the exact same thing with Mrs Weasley and Bill, and made sure to maintain distance between them.

As they headed back up to the castle for lunch, Fleur whispered to Hermione. "And zis coming from ze person 'oo told Ronald off for telling tall tales," she said, smirking.

"Oh like you don't enjoy playing the hero," Hermione replied, giving the other girl a playful nudge.

"I told you zey would adore you," Fleur continued, gesturing at her parents. "Zough I should warn you, I zink Maman is going to give you ze Veela speech."

"…speech?" the bushy-haired girl repeated, an eyebrow raised. Fleur nodded.

"When I turned sixteen, she spoke to me alone and told me all about Veelas mating for life and all zat," the blonde explained.

"I thought that was all myth and superstition," Hermione said, to which the other girl nodded again.

"It is, but she is very proud of 'er 'eritage," Fleur continued. "A lot of Veela play up ze legends for effect." But then she turned away, her brow furrowed. Hermione looked at her curiously, before she faced her again. "But…I suppose zere is a little truth in it. I do not believe ze tales zat I would die if we were parted, but…per'aps it would feel ze same, if it were to 'appen…"

"You can stop right there," Hermione said sharply. "That is never going to happen." She smiled. "And I will tell you mother the same if she does decide to give me 'the speech.'" Fleur smiled and nodded.

When they arrived back at the Great Hall, Fleur led her parents over to the Ravenclaw table. Hermione watched as Fleur's mother greeted a few of her daughter's peers; Hermione often forgot that her girlfriend did indeed have friends of her own. She had only met them once, and had got the distinct impression that they didn't approve of her. She seated herself beside Ginny, who quirked an eyebrow.

"Well, someone looks rather cheerful," the redhead teased. "Been hobnobbing with Fleur's parents, have we?"

"Shush, you," Hermione replied, earning a laugh from the other girl. Ginny shook her head, smiling, before suddenly stopping and looking up in shock.

"Is that-"

"Mum!" Ron called. "Bill! What are you doing here?" Hermione looked up and saw Mrs Weasley, Bill, and Harry approaching the table.

"Come to watch Harry in the last task!" Mrs Weasley replied excitedly. She cast an approving eye over the food-lade table. "I must say, it makes a lovely change not having to cook. How was your exam?"

"Oh…" Ron looked away uneasily. "Okay. I couldn't remember all the goblin rebels' names, so I invented a few."

"And Ginny dear," Mrs Weasley moved over and embraced her daughter. "How are you doing?"

"I'm fine, Mum," Ginny said awkwardly, clearly rather embarrassed at being hugged by her mother in front of the entire hall.

"Keeping out of trouble, I hope?" Mrs Weasley continued. "Eating well?"

"Honestly, Mum, you don't need to worry about me," Ginny insisted. "And why doesn't Ron get told to stay out of trouble?"

"Because he takes after those two-" she jabbed a finger in the direction of Fred and George, who were laughing about something with Lee Jordan. "-far too much. At least you have the sense to keep yourself out of trouble." Unseen by Mrs Weasley, Hermione raised an eyebrow; clearly opening the Chamber of Secrets and setting a basilisk on other students while under the control of a possessed diary didn't count as 'trouble.' She turned back to her food. "Hello, Hermione."

"Hello," Hermione replied, going rather tense at Mrs Weasley's stiff tone.

"Mrs Weasley," Harry intervened, clearly fearing a scene. "You didn't believe that rubbish Rita Skeeter wrote in Witch Weekly, did you? Because Hermione's not my girlfriend."

"Oh!" Mrs Weasley spluttered. "No! Of course I didn't!" Hermione shot Harry and thankful smile, and slid further along the bench to allow Mrs Weasley to sit down. "No, who could believe those silly stories," she went on. "All that rubbish about Hermione being involved with those foreign students; preposterous! One of them was a girl!"

"Umm…" Harry looked nervous again, looking over the top of Mrs Weasley's head.

"Excusez-moi," a voice chimed in. "Per'aps it is too _preposterous_ a thing to ask, but could I 'ave a word wiz my girlfriend?"

**~xxx~**

Thanks to Fleur's rather blunt greeting, Hermione was dreading dinner that night. She didn't blame her; she herself would have probably done the same. She had got to her feet so quickly that she hadn't even seen Mrs Weasley's reaction, but she had a feeling it hadn't gone down well. They spent the afternoon touring the castle itself with Fleur's parents; Gabrielle had decided to stay with the other Beauxbatons students as she had complained her feet were starting to hurt. The weather was rather pleasant; shafts of golden light pouring in through the windows. Given that it would take forever to show them even half of the castle – secret areas not included – Hermione instead showed them the main places of interest. As those students who had free periods were enjoying the weather, the Common Room was deserted. Fleur delighted her parents by recounting their kiss in front of the fireplace.

As Fleur had suspected, her mother took Hermione to one side as they were touring the greenhouses. She seemed to be making sure they were out of earshot of the other two, before she spoke.

"I take it Fleur 'as told you of 'er Veela 'eritage," Apolline asked, to which Hermione nodded.

"Yes, very soon after we met again," she replied. "She gave me a book on them."

"Oh, mon dieu," the blonde woman laughed. "You cannot learn about Veela love from a book!" She shook her head and continued. "'Ermione, zough she would never say so, Fleur will be experiencing some raz'er extreme changes at ze moment. Ze doctors and professors would put it down to simple puberty, but for a Veela it is far more zan zat."

"How so…?" Hermione was baffled, and not entirely sure she believed Apolline's words, remembering what Fleur had told her about her mother's likelihood of exaggerating.

"She 'as already had 'er z'rall for a while now, but zat is only one part of it," she said. "As a Veela becomes a woman, she begins to feel urges; desires, for 'er true mate, even if she 'as not met them."

"How is that possible?" the brunette asked. "How can you feel desire for someone you haven't even met?"

"It is complicated, and you do not need to understand 'ow it works exactly," Apolline said. "If Fleur 'ad not met you, she would still experience strong feelings of desire for a person like you. Of course, she would not suddenly know of your existence and seek you out; Veela are not bound to a single person as the legends claim. 'Owever, zey are very particular wiz zere mates."

"So…it's like how people have a 'type'?" Hermione asked, and Fleur's mother laughed again.

"I suppose, but is much stronger and specific zan zat," she said. "It is more zan likely zat you are ze only one in ze entire of 'Ogwarts zat meets with 'er approval. It is not just your appearance or your personality zat appeals to 'er; it is everyz'ing. Everyz'ing about you, from ze most defining trait to ze smallest defect. You are like a drug to 'er, 'Ermione. I do not believe even she realises just 'ow much she loves you yet."

"I think she is just starting to…" Hermione mused. "Last night she seemed…distracted. Not from me, exactly, but something seemed to have just occurred to her."

"Mmm," Apolline nodded, and looked over at Fleur for a moment, who was currently showing her father a rather hungry looking plant. "You must understand zat what she feels for you is noz'ing short of absolute love, it it's purest form. She is not wiz you just because you are ze sort of person zat appeals to 'er; she is totally in love with _you_, 'Ermione Granger. And I suspect zat by now, she is completely bound to you; she could not find anoz'er even if she tried."

Hermione was silent for a moment, and looked at the floor, allowing everything she had been told to sink in. She suddenly felt rather inadequate. "How can I compare to that…"

"Pardon?" the French woman turned back to Hermione, who was looking rather meek.

"How can I compare what I feel for her to what she feels for me?" She looked up, her expression forlorn. "You make it sound as though she would move the very Earth for me…"

"And she would," Apolline said, nodding. "But ask yourself zis – would you do any different, hm?" She stepped closer. "Is zere anyz'ing you wouldn't do for 'er?" Hermione remained silent, but Apolline smiled. "You should know zat adult Veela are very adept at recognising emotion, 'Ermione." Her smile grew wider. "And when you look at 'er, I 'ave felt noz'ing but ze strongest adoration from you. Veela are passionate creatures by nature; zat does not make what you feel for 'er any less powerful zan what she feels for you."

"Thank you," Hermione said, managing a smile of her own. "I suppose…I just feel a little inadequate compared to her; she's so beautiful, and funny, and smart and I just-"

"Stop right zere," the older witch said. She reached into the pocket of her robes and withdrew an envelope. "I brought zis for you to see…" She glanced over at her daughter. "…so long as you do not tell Fleur you 'ave seen it." Curiously, Hermione took the envelope; it was already opened, and inside was a single piece of folded parchment. She unfurled it and glanced over it; it was a letter in French, before looking back up at Apolline.

"Fleur sent me zat ze day after she arrived 'ere," she said. Hermione nodded, and began to read;

'_Mother,_

_We arrived safely at Hogwarts and are both well, though I do not believe Gabrielle enjoyed the landing. I know I was not looking forward to staying in Britain, but something amazing has happened: Hermione is here! She is a student here – she was a witch the whole time, and I never guessed. She is even more beautiful than she was when we first met, especially her eyes. I could lose myself in those eyes. And that hair of hers is even messy than it was last time; I could just tangle my hands in it all day! Now before you start worrying that I am letting myself in for heartache, I have already spoken to her, and I finally gave her the response I have been waiting to give. It was so perfect, so good. I know now that you were right; she was the one. I cannot describe how she makes me feel. All those feelings I tried to bury have returned, and now I know that I will never have to run from them again. Perhaps I am crazy for rushing into this, and perhaps I will pay the price further down the line, but I cannot resist her. She is the most perfect creature you will ever see, and right now I just want to forget about this entire tournament and take her away from here, so we can be together forever. You are probably laughing at me for saying such things, and I must confess that my hands are still shaking, but right now I do not care. I am still waiting to wake up, for this must surely be a dream. I have my beloved again, and I am not letting her go again._

_Fleur.'_

Hermione looked up, unsure of what to say. She folded the letter and placed it back into the envelope, handing it back to Fleur's mother. "Well…" she said, her voice rather hoarse. "That's…wow…"

"Now per'aps you understand, hm?" Apolline said kindly. "She 'as sent me many letters over ze past year, and she is greatly concerned zat you feel less important next to 'er." She reached forwards and placed a hand upon Hermione's shoulder. "It does not 'ave to be so. She once told me zat you reminded 'er of a lion; full of bravery and loyalty. Zat is what you need to act upon; Fleur is just as much yours as you are hers."

Before Hermione had longer to dwell on Apolline's words, Fleur and her father approached them. "What time is it?" Fleur asked. "It must be nearly time for dinner."

"Oh…it's…" Hermione pulled out her watch. "You're right, we should probably get back to the Great Hall."

"Zat watch…" Apolline looked at it for a moment, before smiling and turning to Fleur. "You said you 'ad lost it…"

"Oh, oui," Fleur looked away, her face flushing; a rare occurrence that Hermione always found adorable. "I zought you would be angry if I told you I 'ad given it away as I did. And when you said you approved, I suppose I 'ad forgotten all about it…"

"As I 'ave just been telling 'Ermione, your relationship is somez'ing I understand perfectly," Apolline said, turning back to the brunette. "My faz'er would be 'appy to know it 'ad gone to such a good 'ome."

"Oh…thank you…" the brunette murmured, looking down at the watch. She had almost forgotten about it's origins; focussing entirely on the fact that it had come from Fleur. It was a precious reminder of just how much had happened between them since they had first met.

"Well zen," Fleur said, holding out her hand for Hermione to take. "Shall we be on our way? The brunette nodded and gave a small smile, taking the other girl's hand and squeezing gently. Perhaps she was just slightly overcome with all the talk of how much Fleur wanted her, but she couldn't help but notice how perfectly their fingers meshed together.

**~xxx~**

At dinner that night, Hermione's nerves began to return. The longer they ate, the more her enjoyable day with Fleur and her parents seemed like a distant memory. She and Fleur had parted just before dinner, allowing Hermione to head up to Gryffindor Tower to get changed. She could see her girlfriend over at the Ravenclaw table. For all intents and purposes, she looked her usual confident self. She was again wearing her uniform; even her hat was perfectly positioned. But there was something in her eyes that told Hermione she was nervous: she wasn't quite looking at the fellow student she was talking with. If Mrs Weasley had been offended by Fleur's earlier behaviour, she didn't say so. Perhaps the fact that she hadn't said anything at all to Hermione was a bad sign; though in all honesty, there was little chance that anyone other than Harry would be getting her attention in the build-up to the Third Task.

All too soon, the food vanished from their plates, and Professor Dumbledore rose to his feet, silencing the hall.

"Ladies and gentlemen," he began. "In five minutes' time, I will be asking you to make your way down to the Quidditch pitch for the third and last task of the Triwizard Tournament. Will the Champions please follow Mr Bagman down to the stadium now?"

Hermione was dimly aware of Harry getting to his feet nearby, but was far too focussed on watching Fleur to fully notice. The blonde gave her sister a quick embrace, before heading towards the doors. Ludo Bagman himself was striding down from the staff table, and led the four Champions out of sight. Hermione let out a breath she hadn't even realised she had been holding; there was nothing to be done now. She has so wanted to wish Fleur luck before she left, but the Champions leaving early made it impossible. She felt a hand on her shoulder, and looked up to find Ginny giving her an encouraging smile.

"She'll be fine," the redhead said. Hermione smiled appreciatively.

"Shouldn't you be worrying about Harry?" the older girl asked knowingly, causing Ginny's cheeks to redden slightly.

"He's been in far worse situations than this," she replied. "And you told me yourself, Fleur knows far more spells than he does."

"Knows more spells, yes," Hermione said darkly. "But she's never had to use them in the way Harry has."

"Didn't look that way when she was tackling Merpeople and a dragon," Ginny said with a smirk. "Come on, it's nearly time to go."

**~xxx~**

It didn't take them long to reach the Quidditch pitch, of which only a small portion was recognisable. The maze, now twenty feet high, stretched across it and far beyond, likely further even than the Hogwarts grounds. A foreboding mist hung in the air, seemingly emanating from the multiple entrances to the maze. As they climbed the stands, Hermione could see Fleur down at ground level with the other Champions, as well as Professor Dumbledore, Ludo Bagman, Karkaroff, Madame Maxime, and the Minister for Magic himself; Cornelius Fudge. Hermione settled beside Ginny, subconsciously attempting to stay as far away from Mrs Weasley as possible. Mr Weasley had since arrived, and was sat beside his wife, chatting animatedly to a professor in the row behind them. Hermione could see the Beauxbatons students performing some sort of dance as they cheered Fleur, and for a moment wished she was sitting in their midst; she was well aware that not all Hogwarts students had readily accepted her being with the Beauxbatons Champion.

As the nearby band stopped playing, Ludo Bagman stepped forward, facing the stands. "Ladies and gentlemen!" his magically-enhanced voice boomed. "The third and final task of the Triwizard Tournament is about to begin! Let me remind you how the points currently stand! In first place – on eighty-seven points – Mr Cedric Diggory, of Hogwarts School!" There was a loud cheer from the stands. "In second place – on eighty-six points – Miss Fleur Delacour, of Beauxbatons Academy!" Unable to contain herself, Hermione joined with the cheers this time. Ginny did the same, though Hermione suspected this was more for her benefit than anything else. If some of the nearby Hogwarts students were giving her funny looks, she didn't notice; entirely focused on Fleur, who had now spotted her and was smiling warmly. "In third place – on eighty-five points – Mr Harry Potter, also of Hogwarts!" The cheering was louder than Fleur's, especially from Hermione's position in the midst of the Gryffindors. She cheered for Harry, of course, but even she could tell that it wasn't _quite_ as forcefully as she had done for Fleur. "And in fourth place – Mr Viktor Krum, of Durmstrang Institute!"

There was further applause as Bagman paused for a moment. "Earlier today," he continued. "Professor Moody placed the Triwizard Cup deep within the maze; only he knows it's exact position. The Champions will enter the maze in the order of scores; Mr Diggory first, then Miss Delacour, and so on. The first person to touch the cup will be the winner!" There was thunderous applause and cheering from the entire audience at this. "Professors McGonagall, Moody, Flitwick and Hagrid will patrol the perimeter of the maze. If at any point a contestant gets into difficulty and wishes to be rescued, he or she need only send up red sparks with their wand." He gestured with his own as he said this.

At this point, Professor Dumbledore called the Champions over, and they gathered around him. His words couldn't be heard from the stands, but Hermione noticed a look of concern on both Harry and Fleur's faces. When he was done talking, the Champions moved away again, taking up their positions at the four separate entrances to the maze. "Champions!" Bagman called excitedly, turning his back to the stands to face the maze. "Prepare yourselves!" He looked up to the top of the stands, which Mr Filch was stationed with his cannon. "On the sound of the cannon, Mr Diggory! Three, two-"

True to form, Filch's cannon went off early, drowning out Bagman's final word. He rolled his eyes and turned to Cedric, who gave a nervous smile and nodded, before turning and slowly heading into the misty passage. Hermione's tension grew when she saw the entrance close itself behind Cedric; the branches tangling themselves together to form a solid wall. She glanced back down to Fleur, who had just looked up at her again. 'Good luck,' she mouthed, to which the blonde nodded, giving a small smile. A few minutes later, the cannon let out another shot, and with a final deep breath, Fleur stepped into the maze. Not long later, all four Champions were gone, and Hermione's shoulders sagged slightly.

"She is going to be fine," Ginny insisted. "They'll both be fine." As time passed, the crowd again became filled with noise. This time, it was mostly the noise of multiple conversations. Fred and George were again taking bets, much to Mrs Weasley's chagrin, and beside her, Ron and Bill were discussing their own thoughts on the outcome of the task. Hermione wasn't sure whether she wanted time to speed up or slow down; she wanted to hear news of what was going on in the maze, but she wasn't sure she wanted to know what that news might be.

A few moments later, there was a faint bang heard from within the maze. The stands erupted into a series of gasps, but nothing could be seen; the sky was still dark, and no further noises could be heard. Slowly the stands filled with conversation again. The brunette ran a hand through her bushy hair, wondering just how frequent this was going to be during the task. She got her answer when a few minutes later a bright flash briefly illuminated the sky; like the flashbulb of a camera; but there were still no signs of red sparks. Deciding to distract herself from any further sounds from the maze, she leant forwards so she could listen in on the conversations between the Weasleys.

"-more years of experience," Bill was saying. "Still, if a Fourth Year had to take part, Harry would be the one to choose."

"I'm surprised they haven't done more to find out how his name got in," Mrs Weasley replied. "They should have stopped the Tournament until they found the culprit."

"Doesn't seem to have been a problem," Ron added. "Done alright, hasn't he?" He looked back out across the maze. "Should have let us all watch from the tower stands." He gestured up at the tall wooden structures that lined the Quidditch pitch.

"They probably don't want people shouting directions," Ginny said. "Not that it would do any good; look-" As she pointed, the tops of a cluster of hedges could be seen shifting and reorganising themselves. "-it keeps changing."

"Wonder what they've got in there…" Ron mused. "There's _got_ to be a Screwt or two." The mental image of Fleur facing off against one of those monstrous creatures made Hermione's skin crawl, and she suddenly wished she hadn't started listening in. She shifted uncomfortably, a movement that caught Ron's eye. "Hey, Hermione," he said. "What do you reckon's in there?"

"I…" the bushy-haired girl looked up, startled for a moment. "Well, nothing that can fly; and nothing too big." She mentally slapped herself for such a pathetic answer. "Though I can't imagine many creatures would take kindly to being dumped in a maze; they're going to have to worry about things coming at them from behind." As Ron and Bill nodded, Hermione couldn't believe what she was saying; she felt as though every time she concocted a horrible fate for the Champions, she was giving Fleur another issue to contend with.

"You think anyone's going to have to call for help?" Ron continued. "I bet Diggory's too proud to do it."

"More like his dad's too proud to let him do it," Ginny replied. She nodded in the direction of Amos Diggory, who was seated in the front row of the stands. Hermione could see Fleur's parents in the same row; Gabrielle was clinging to her mother's arm rather tightly.

"I think that Delacour girl will go out first," Mrs Weasley added. "She didn't look too confident at the start."

"_Mum!"_ Ginny and Ron shouted in unison. Hermione wanted to scream at her, but she bit her tongue and silently fumed. Now was neither the time nor place to have this out with Mrs Weasley, especially given that it was over a simple misunderstanding.

Another ten or so minutes passed, and the chatter from the stands only grew louder. The band started up again, and some of the Beauxbatons students decided to start doing their dance for a second time. It was a welcome distraction from the ominous maze, which if anything was giving out more of that disturbing fog now. Unfortunately, the increased noise levels meant the next sound from within the maze was mostly obscured. The crowd fell silent, but the sound was already gone.

"Was that a shout or a scream?" Ron asked.

"Could have been a spell," Bill added. "Or a roar."

Hermione felt the knot in her stomach tightening. If one of the Champions was in trouble, could help reach them fast enough. There hadn't been any red sparks, but did that mean they were all alright, or someone just couldn't reach their wand? Ginny glanced at Hermione, and it was clear that the youngest Weasley was now a little nervous as well. The stands were just beginning to fill with noise again, when another flash of light caused them to instantly fall silent;

Red sparks.

Instantly, the assembled students erupted into a cacophony of noise; some even got to their feet. Others appeared to be replaying the sparkling red light on pairs of Omnioculars. Hermione's heart was in her throat; her eyes fixed on the dissipating flickers of scarlet light in the sky.

"Well…uh…" Even Ludo Bagman seemed a bit nervous. "It seems one of our Champions has got into difficulty!" He forced a smile. "But I'm sure aid is already on the way; nothing to worry about!"

Hermione only wished she could believe him. She exchanged a panicked look with Ginny, who just shook her head. "It doesn't mean anything's happened," she said. "They could just be stuck. And besides, it could just as easily be Cedric or Krum."

"Maybe…" Hermione murmured, looking back towards the maze. She didn't know how Ginny could be so dismissive. The minutes ticked by, and with every passing second, the brunette felt her tension rising. Again, she didn't know whether she wanted to find out sooner, or prolong it.

And then, causing the stands to fall silent again, the hedges began to rustle. The tops of them could be seen parting, as though a great steamroller was emerging from within the maze. As the second-to-last wall parted, Hermione – and a lot of other spectators – leant forwards in their seats. There was a collective gasp as Hagrid emerged from the maze. His expression was grim, and in his arms, covered in blood, was one of the Champions. Madam Pomfrey was at Hagrid's side within seconds, having been waiting nearby. Professor Dumbledore followed, before turning to the stands.

"Miss Granger!" he called, but Hermione was already out of her seat and scrambling down the wooden steps to the ground. As she made her way towards them as fast as her legs would carry her, Hagrid gently laid Fleur's limp body upon the ground. The blonde's dirt-smeared face lolled to the side, revealing a deep cut running down the right-hand side of her face, trails of half-dried blood running from it. Hermione skidded to her knees, looking over the other girl desperately. She didn't know what to do; she wanted to make sure Fleur was alright, but didn't dare touch her without knowing what had happened. Professor McGonagall hurried to Dumbledore's side, clapping a hand to her mouth.

"Albus," she breathed. "Is she…?"

Dumbledore knelt beside Hermione, and gently placed a hand upon Fleur's forehead. He gave a tiny smile, before getting back to his feet. "She has been stunned," he said. "Miss Delacour is still very much alive."

"Fleur!" Apolline's voice rang out. Hermione looked over her shoulder and saw the blonde's family running towards them, accompanied by Madame Maxime and the other judges. "Mon dieu, Fleur!"

"Mrs Delacour, your daughter will be alright," Dumbledore said calmly. "Madame Pomfrey will bind her wounds and then we will wake her."

"What 'appened?" Apolline asked, looking only partially relieved by Dumbledore's words.

"Tha's what I'd like to know," Hagrid said, shaking his head. "There's nothin' in there that could'a done that."

"What part, the stunning or the blood?" Hermione asked rather rudely. She hadn't noticed before, but hot tears were running down her cheeks. "One of your bloody Skrewts could have done this!" Hagrid didn't respond, and instead just stood there, looking rather uncomfortable.

"Get her onto that bench," Madam Pomfrey instructed, gesturing at the front row of the stands that had been vacated when the judges had come over. At this point, both Ludo Bagman and Cornelius Fudge stepped forward.

"Dumbledore, what happened?" Fudge asked. "That girl's covered in blood!"

"Cornelius," Dumbledore said, his voice still calm. "What is important is that Miss Delacour is alive. We will wake her, and then we can ask her what happened, but only when she is able."

"Come on, Minister," Bagman said jovially. "It's a good bit of drama, don't you think? I remember this one time I took a bludger to the nose; it was like a fountain for the rest of the match! And that semi-final against the Falmouth Falcons…"

Desperate to escape Bagman's Quidditch stories and remain at her girlfriend's side, Hermione followed as Madam Pomfrey levitated Fleur's prone form to the bench, and set about binding her wounds. The blonde really was in a state; in addition to the cut on her face, her leg seemed to have been battered, and her left arm was at an odd angle; likely broken. She was covered in dirt, and her hair was full of twigs and leaves, in addition to the congealed blood. Still, knowing that she was still alive, Hermione had taken her hand and was holding onto it tightly. As she waited for Madam Pomfrey to bandage Fleur's wounds, she was vaguely aware of Ludo Bagman informing the stands that the Beauxbatons Champion was alright, which led to quite a lot of cheering.

Finally, Madam Pomfrey was satisfied, and gave a wave of her wand. Instantly, Fleur's eyes opened widely. She drew in a long breath, as if she had just been saved from choking, her back arching against the bench. She struggled against Madam Pomfrey's hold for a moment, looking around fearfully, before her eyes settled on Hermione. She stopped moving and frowned.

"'Ermione…what are…" She spotted Professor Dumbledore over Hermione's shoulder. "…where am I…?" Before an answer could be given, she tensed and let out a shriek of pain, clutching at her bandaged arm.

"Stop moving," Hermione snapped, her pained smile betraying her relief. "You'll make it worse."

Fleur managed a tiny smile of her own, before grimacing again. Apolline knelt beside her daughter, looking over her battered body in horror. "Fleur…que vous a fait ceci?"

"I do not know," the blonde managed, answering in English for Hermione's benefit. "It all 'appened so fast…"

"Albus, we don't need to do this here," Madam Pomfrey said. "You can talk to her as much as you want _later_; we need to get her to the hospital wing, there's only so much I can do here."

"I am afraid that will have to wait, Poppy," Dumbledore said. "We really do need to hear what happened in there." Something in the Headmaster's voice made Hermione feel a little uneasy. "My dear, is there anything you can tell us? Anything at all?"

"I…" Fleur looked up at the sky, deep in thought. "I 'ad just got past a pair of Manticores-" Apolline's face paled. "-and was 'eading down a long path. I zought I saw Viktor furz'er along it, and zen…" She blinked a few times, concentrating hard. "…I 'eard a noise behind me, and…I zink I turned around, and zen…zat is all I remember…"

"Albus, she has been hit with a stunning charm," McGonagall said in a hushed whisper. "None of the creatures in there are capable of that."

"Indeed they are not," Dumbledore replied grimly. Hermione looked up at him in horror.

"You don't mean…"

"I am afraid I do, Miss Granger," he replied, standing to full height again. "Minerva, Rubeus, I must ask that you resume your posts around the perimeter and watch carefully for any signs of foul play." They both nodded, and headed back towards the maze. As they left, Professor Flitwick emerged from within.

"I didn't see anyone nearby," the Charms teacher said. "But I found this." He held up a wand, which Hermione instantly recognised.

"I 'ad not even noticed I 'ad dropped it," Fleur said appreciatively, watching as Flitwick handed it to Hermione, before he headed back to the maze.

"Under the circumstances, I don't think anyone can blame you," the brunette said, giving another brief smile.

"How dare you!" Karkaroff's voice sounded from some distance away. "What are you trying to imply, Dumbledore?" Hermione strained her ears to hear the Headmaster's reply.

"I am merely stating the facts, Igor," he said. "Miss Delacour has been attacked, and not by one of the obstacles brought in for the task. At no point did I give any indication that it was more likely your student than either of my own…" He looked away, pensive for a moment. "…or indeed, someone else entirely…"

"Viktor will be found next, mark my words," Karkaroff spat. "You have set our Champions against each other-" He gestured at Madame Maxime, who was standing beside them. "-while yours work together to gain victory! No doubt Potter and Diggory will emerge with the Triwizard Cup held between them and it will be declared a draw! Just so you can claim both of your Champions have won!"

Hermione was amazed at how calm Dumbledore was able to remain during this tirade. He just stood there, his hands folded behind his back, as though the Durmstrang Highmaster was discussing the weather with him. "Professor Dumbly-dorr would not do such a zing," Madame Maxime said, shaking her head. "I grow tired of your conspiracy zeories, Karkaroff."

Returning her attention to Fleur, Hermione squeezed the blonde's hand, stroking it with her thumb. "You're a mess," she said, another smile breaking through.

"Merci," Fleur replied groggily. Madam Pomfrey looked over her again.

"Right, now that that's sorted, we should get you to the Hospital Wing," she said, but Fleur shook her head.

"Non, I want to stay," the part-Veela insisted. "I need to see ze zis to ze end." The matron just rolled her eyes, but didn't argue. Apolline placed a hand upon Hermione's shoulder.

"'Ermione, we are going to take Gabrielle to ze castle," she said. "I know my daughter will be alright with you at 'er side."

"Non, je veux rester avec Fleur!" the youngest Delacour piped up, but Apolline shook her head.

"Gabrielle, vous ferez comme vous êtes dit," she said firmly, turning back to Hermione. "Take care of 'er." With that, the Delacours left. Hermione couldn't blame them; she wouldn't want Gabrielle seeing her older sister looking as though she had just lost a fight with a mountain troll.

"I raz'er like ze idea of you taking care of me…" Fleur mused, gazing up at Hermione. However, the brunette didn't smile; instead, she just looked up at the maze again, worry etched onto her face. Harry was still in there, and either one of the other Champions – or someone else – was perfectly willing to attack him. Now that Fleur was safe – though injured – the younger witch was starting to think that perhaps her girlfriend had been the lucky one; she was out, she was okay. How did they know that Harry wasn't injured, unable to reach his wand. This though brought something to Hermione's attention;

"Fleur, if you were stunned, who sent up red sparks so they knew to come and get you?" she asked. Fleur's brow furrowed.

"I…'ave no idea," the blonde said. "Per'aps o'ever attacked me 'as a conscience?"

"Maybe one of the others found you," Hermione suggested. Fleur nodded, but gritted her teeth and grimaced again. Hermione wished she would take Madam Pomfrey's advice and go to the Hospital Wing, but she knew it would be pointless arguing; Fleur was just as she stubborn as she was. As her knees were starting to ache, she got up and sat upon the bench Fleur was laying on. She made sure Fleur still had a hand to hold on to, and felt her girlfriend squeeze it appreciatively.

By this point, the stands seemed to have calmed down. Hermione had paid no attention to them, being entirely focussed on Fleur, but she imagined her appearance had caused quite some commotion. A short while later, a few Beauxbatons girls made their way down through the stands to check on Fleur. Hermione recognised one of them as the girl that had been rude to her during her first visit to the Beauxbatons carriage, but she didn't look at all as though she was holding a grudge. After Fleur insisted that she was fine, her peers stayed nearby, occupying the seats vacated by the part-Veela's family.

"I am sorry I 'ad you worried," Fleur croaked after a while, gazing up at the other girl. Hermione shook her head and forced a smile.

"You have nothing to be sorry for, so don't even start that," she said. Fleur seemed to accept this, and looked up to the sky again.

"Still, I am sorry…" Hermione frowned, puzzled by the other girl's words.

"What do you-" But before she could finish her question, the stands were illuminated by a bright scarlet light from above; another stream of red sparks had appeared from the maze. Fleur and Hermione exchanged nervous looks, and watched as both the staff and students seemed to repeat the exact same actions they had performed the first time. The professors moved into the center of the clearing, while those in the stands gasped and pointed.

"You don't think…" Hermione murmured, looking down at Fleur again. "…someone else has been attacked?"

She got her answer soon enough; Professor McGonagall emerged from the maze, levitating Viktor Krum's prone body behind her. Hermione braced herself for the inevitable outburst from Karkaroff, but it never came. She looked around, and saw that the Durmstrang Highmaster had completely disappeared. McGonagall gently placed Krum on the ground to the side of the clearing, and the teachers crowded around him. Hermione couldn't hear what they were saying, and instead watched their faces; Dumbledore looked more grim than ever, and after he said something, Professor McGonagall clapped a hand to her mouth, her expression one of disbelief. A moment later, Krum – whose injuries didn't seem as severe as Fleur's – was revived. He spluttered for a moment, before sitting up, despite Madam Pomfrey's protests.

Professor Dumbledore knelt beside Viktor, who began speaking very quickly to him. Dumbledore nodded a couple of times, before instructing the professors to return to their patrol duties. Krum got to his feet, and after a brief conversation with his parents, sat beside Hermione. He looked pretty shaken. "Vot happened to Fleur?" he asked.

"Fleur is awake, Viktor," the part-Veela answered, gritting her teeth. "Zough in raz'er a lot of pain."

"She was attacked," Hermione said. "What about you?"

"I…I am not sure," the Bulgarian replied. "I vos also attacked, I know that much. Your headmaster said…he thinks I vos put under the Imperius Curse."

"_What?"_ Hermione clapped her hands to her mouth. "By who?"

"I never saw," Viktor replied, shaking his head. "But it vos not Harry or Cedric." He looked down at Fleur. "And Fleur had alveady sent up sparks."

"What on earth is going on in there…?" Hermione asked quietly, looking back towards the maze. "Skrewts and Manticores can't put the Imperius Curse on people."

"Neiz'er can two 'Ogwarts students…" Fleur added, starting to sound rather drowsy.

Time passed, and still there were no more signs of activity from the maze. Madam Pomfrey came over to check on Fleur and Viktor briefly, noting that if Fleur was going to try sleeping in her injured state, a bed would be a lot better for her than a wooden bench and Hermione's leg – upon which her head was now resting - but the French witch flatly refused. As they waited, Hermione glanced up at the stands again. She could see the Weasleys; Ginny was looking rather curiously down at them, while the others had their eyes fixed on the maze again. The brunette had to wonder just why they bothered; why there were stands at all; it was impossible to see anything going on within the maze itself. Nearly half an hour after Viktor had returned, Hermione's fear had risen to the point where she had begun chewing on the inside of her mouth; something her parents had made her stop doing years ago.

Without warning, there was a momentary flurry of wind from the center of the clearing, and a loud thud as something hit the ground. Hermione hadn't even seen what it was before the stands erupted into a wall of sound; thunderous applause, cheers and singing; the band started up again. She leant forwards and saw Harry and Cedric sprawled upon the grass, the Triwizard Cup beside them. Seemingly in an attempt to avoid the commotion, Fleur struggled to her feet. Glancing at her, Hermione quickly slung the part-Veela's good arm over her shoulder for support. She helped Fleur stagger forwards a few steps. Behind them, several people were already leaving the stands to offer their congratulations. And then she felt the other girl tense up.

Fleur let out a scream and pulled Hermione tightly against her. Seconds later, the brunette realised what her girlfriend had seen, and had to stop herself from giving the same reaction. Cedric Diggory wasn't moving; his eyes staring up into the night sky, cold and devoid of life. Hermione couldn't believe it; it couldn't be true. Cedric Diggory. Dead. It just couldn't be… The stands' cheers turned to screams and shouts, which quickly faded to a horrified silence. Hermione gripped the part-Veela to her side as tightly as she could, neither she nor Fleur noticing that she was pressing against one of the blonde's wounds. Harry was gripping Cedric's wrist tightly, seemingly unable or unwilling to let go. Dumbledore knelt beside him, and placed a hand upon his shoulder.

"Harry," he said gently. "_Harry!" _Some distance behind the Headmaster, Cornelius Fudge was rushing towards them.

"For God's sake, Dumbledore, what's happened?" the Minister said breathlessly, crouching beside the Professor. Harry looked up at Dumbledore desperately.

"He's back!" he wheezed, his voice strained. "He's back! _Voldemort's back!"_ He let out a sob, struggling to keep his head up. "Cedric; he asked me to bring his body back. I couldn't leave him. Not there…"

Hermione's mouth fell open, and she exchanged a terrified look with Fleur. One of them was shaking, but she was so stunned she couldn't even tell which. Dumbledore placed his hands on either side of Harry's head, and spoke to him calmly and clearly.

"It's alright, Harry. It's alright," the Professor said. "You can't help him now. It's over. He's home; you both are. Let go."

"Keep everybody in their seats," Fudge's voice could be heard behind them; Hermione hadn't even noticed him moving, her eyes fixed on the scene before them. "A boy has just been killed." He rushed back past Fleur and Hermione. "The body must be moved, Dumbledore. There are too many people!" He looked over his shoulder briefly, his bowler hat nearly flying off as his head snapped back. "Dumbledore, Diggory's parents, they're here, they're in the stands…"

"Let me through!" Amos Diggory's voice cut through Hermione as though a knife had been wedged into her back; the shear panic in his voice was grating. She dared a look over her shoulder, and saw as the man pushed through the gathering crowd on his way towards them. "That's my son!" Arthur Weasley was right behind him, and seemed to be attempting to keep him away, but it was too late. He collapsed to his knees beside Cedric's body, his face crumpling in emotional agony "That's my boy!"

Cedric's father let out a wail that Hermione knew would stay with her for the rest of her life. It was the most awful sound she had ever heard, the most absolute expression of despair. Unable to hold back her tears any longer, she buried her face in Fleur's hair, unwilling to watch the horrible scene unfolding before them. The blonde embraced her as firmly as she could, given her current state, whispering to her in French in as calming a tone as she could manage. She appreciated Fleur's attempts even more when she felt tears against her face that weren't her own, and looked up to find her girlfriend's eyes just as red as her own.

"Could...could everybody please stay back," Ludo Bagman said. His voice was so weak it was barely noticeable that it was being magically magnified. He looked utterly lost and out of his depth, the lack of his usual bravado making him seem a lot smaller. "Please, just stay back and give them some room…"

"Hermione! Fleur!" a voice called. She looked up and saw the Weasleys running towards her. Ginny grabbed both of them; she was in danger of pulling Fleur of balance, but the blonde didn't seem to care. As Ginny pulled away, Ron looked around. "Where's Harry?" Hermione looked up; Harry had been right there, beside Dumbledore. Everyone was so occupied with keeping the crowds back from Cedric and his father, nobody seemed to have noticed Harry was missing.

"May I have your attention!" Dumbledore's voice boomed; louder than Bagman's, without even being magically enhanced. "Will everyone please vacate the stands at once. The staff will direct you back to the castle." Barely anyone moved, their eyes still fixed on Cedric's lifeless body. "_Now!"_ That did it. The crowds of students and other attendees quickly began filing from the stands, many of them still staring in Cedric's direction. Dumbledore strode towards Hermione and the others. "Miss Granger, I suggest you take Miss Delacour to the Hospital Wing."

"Where's Harry?" she replied desperately. Dumbledore paused for the briefest of moments, before turning away and striding off without a word, Professors Snape and McGonagall in tow. Hermione gave another look to Cedric's body, which had now been covered by a simple black sheet. Amos Diggory was still knelt at his side, while Cedric's mother was standing behind her husband, oddly motionless.

Unable to watch anymore, she again pulled Fleur's arm over her shoulder, and followed the Weasleys as they headed up the castle, leaving Cedric's parents to mourn in peace. Hermione knew that she was going to feel a whole lot worse as soon as the shock dissipated, and wanted to make sure she had got Fleur safely to the Hospital Wing before it did.

Cedric Diggory, dead. Lord Voldemort, returned. Harry, missing. It was no wonder there were tears streaming down her face.


	20. Farewells and Promises

**Harry Potter and all related characters and places are owned by JK Rowling - I just make them dance for my own amusement.**

**I probably should have announced beforehand, but this is the final chapter. It's been a long road getting here, and I hope it lives up to your expectations. The next "chapter" will be a full message from me to you guys.**

**If you don't read that, then let me just say that it has been an absolutely privelage to bring this story to you guys, and your responses have meant more to me than you probaby realise.  
**

**~xxx~**

To Hermione's great surprise, Mrs Weasley started fussing over Fleur as soon as they reached the Hospital Wing. By the time Madam Pomfrey arrived, the part-Veela had already been helped into bed and propped up by multiple pillows. Ron had wondered whether Krum would be brought up, but Hermione pointed out that he hadn't been injured; despite his experience under the Imperius Curse. Within a few minutes, Madam Pomfrey had properly cleaned Fleur's wounds, and had left Hermione the task of pulling the various twigs and bits of dirt from her girlfriend's hair. Satisfied that Fleur was alright, the Weasleys followed Madam Pomfrey and began hounding her about Harry's whereabouts. Hermione was desperate to know, too, but she didn't dare leave the blonde's bedside. Besides, she had to change the other girl into something a little less blood-stained.

Under other circumstances, the thought of pulling all of Fleur's clothes off would have been a rather exciting one, but Hermione couldn't bring herself to think like that, given the situation. For her part, Fleur didn't try anything, and simply allowed Hermione to dress her in a hospital gown, before awkwardly climbing back into the bed. However, despite her pre-occupation, Hermione still made a point of closing the curtains around them, before crawling onto the bed, straddling the blonde's waist, and pulling Fleur into a deep kiss. She gripped the other girl's face gently, before pulling away and resting their foreheads together.

"Don't you ever scare me like that again…" she whispered. "I can't lose you, Fleur…I can't…"

"You won't," the blonde replied, her tone serious. "You will never lose me, 'Ermione."

"Oh Fleur…" Hermione embraced the other girl as best she could without hurting her. They stayed like that for a few minutes, before Hermione reluctantly moved back to her seat. Fleur looked a little put out that the other girl had moved, but didn't say anything. The brunette settled back into her seat and took Fleur's hand within her own.

"'Ermione, zere is…somez'ing I need to tell you…" the part-Veela said quietly, not quite meeting Hermione's eyes. "Earlier, when I said I was sorry…I did not just mean for worrying you…" The brunette didn't like the tone her girlfriend's voice had taken, and tightened her grip on Fleur's hand.

"What's wrong?" she asked. Fleur closed her eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath.

"In ze maze, zere were all sorts of creatures…" the blonde explained. "And…zere was a Boggart…"

"Fleur, you don't need to be ashamed of being afraid of something," Hermione said quickly, subconsciously hoping that was what Fleur was referring to, but the other girl shook her head.

"It is not zat," she said. "I…I did not see what I wanted to see…" Her voice was shaking now, and she still couldn't look Hermione in the eye.

"What…what did you see…?" the brunette said, worry now creeping into her voice. To her shock, Fleur let out a sob and turned away.

"You will 'ate me for it," she said, her voice cracking. "Oh 'Ermione…I am a 'orrible person…"

"No you're not!" Hermione snapped, starting to become very concerned. "Fleur, what did you see?"

"I…I saw…you," the blonde croaked, her shoulders sagging. "You were just standing zere, and…and I asked why you were in ze maze." She took another shaky breath. "And you just shook your 'ead, and told me…told me…" She let out another sob and pulled her knees up to her chest, almost as though she was trying to curl up and hide. "You told me you were leaving me…"

"Fleur…you can't have believed that was real…" Hermione said, reaching up to place a hand upon the other girl's shoulder. However, Fleur jerked away, refusing the brunette's touch.

"Of course I did not believe it was real…" she murmured. "_Do you not understand?_ Ze zing I fear most…is you leaving me…"

"Fleur, I don't-"

"'Ermione, I should 'ave seen you dead!" Fleur sobbed, finally turning back to the other girl. Tears were streaming from her swollen eyes, the moisture glinting in the candlelight. "…or you and my family…I…mon dieu, je suis une personne sans pitié!" She hung her head again, burying her face in her knees. "…ze zought of you abandoning me frightens me more zan anyz'ing; even more zan you dying…zey were right about me, weren't zey? I am a 'eartless, selfish, self-centered-"

"You're not," Hermione said firmly, grabbing Fleur's head and forcing her to face her. The blonde looked at her desperately. "Damnit, Fleur, you're _not."_

"But-"

"Fleur Isabelle Delacour, with the greatest of respect – _shut up." _Oh yes, she felt like a lion again now. "Disregarding the fact that you know as well as I do that that won't happen, fearing such a thing doesn't make you a bad person. The last time I went up against a Boggart, I saw Professor McGonagall telling me I had failed all my classes; how's that for priorities?"

Fleur actually managed a laugh, forcing a smile. She brought a hand up to rest against Hermione's, which was still cupping her face. "I…I just zought zat…it means deep down, I would raz'er you died zan left me for someone else…"

"Fleur, with everything your mother told me about Veela, I cannot blame you for that," the younger witch said seriously. "And I would be lying if I said I wasn't a little flattered to have someone feeling so possessive over me…" She smiled. "…but only because it's you. Just do your dignity a favour and don't get too clingy."

"Says ze girl 'oo spent ze 'ole of Valentine's Day sat in my lap," Fleur replied, her smile only growing. Hermione chuckled and nodded, glad that the tension had finally broken. She wiped Fleur's tears away, and tucked a few stray hairs behind the other girl's ears.

"Out of interest, how did you get past the Boggart?" Hermione asked, and Fleur looked away again, this time hiding a blush. "Come on, Fleur, I know you know the spell – how did you turn it into something funny?"

"…'er cloz'es fell off," the part-Veela admitted, and the brunette instantly gave her a gentle whack over the head.

"_I knew it!"_ she snapped, unable to hide her grin.

"Knew what?" Ron's voice asked through a gap in the curtains. Hermione nearly jumped out of her skin.

**~xxx~**

That night, Fleur left the Hospital Wing with Hermione. Harry was safe and sound, though understandably very shaken, and was resting there. Professor Dumbledore had instructed them not to ask him any questions about what had happened in the maze, and so Hermione left her friend to sleep. Fleur's family arrived shortly after Harry, and generally fussed over her. Apolline, however, seemed satisfied that being left with Hermione would be better for her daughter than anything Madam Pomfrey could do. After Gabrielle had fallen asleep at her sister's bedside, her parents decided to take her back to the Beauxbatons carriage. Madam Pomfrey had wanted Fleur to stay the night, but she insisted that she was alright, and didn't want to spend the night wearing 'one of zose 'orrible gowns.' Hermione was sure Madam Pomfrey would have protested further if given the chance – she herself wasn't too keen of her girlfriend leaving so soon – but she knew it was pointless to argue. And besides, she didn't want to be parted from Fleur; not after what had happened, and those hospital beds were most definitely not designed for two. They returned to Gryffindor Tower, changed without words, and climbed into bed. The other Gryffindor girls didn't even question Fleur's presence.

The part-Veela's wounds were still very tender, and Hermione was rather conscious in her efforts to not cause her any more discomfort. It was to her surprise then, when Fleur embraced her tightly and rolled Hermione over so she was on top of the blonde. "Zat is better…" she murmured, leaning up and kissing the other girl's neck. The brunette leant into Fleur's touch, letting out a quiet moan and tightening her hold on the French witch.

"You need to sleep… Hermione said, not sounding entirely committed to the idea.

"But why sleep when I 'ave ze best medicine right 'ere…" the blonde purred, surprising the other girl by gently nipping her ear. "I do not want to zink of what 'as 'appened today, and you are ze most welcome distraction…"

"If I give you ten minutes of kissing, will you let me go to sleep?" Hermione asked, an eyebrow raised. "You may not want to rest, but I'm shattered."

"Oh very well," Fleur replied with a sigh. "You should get your watch out; we would not want to over-run your time limit."

"Be quiet," the younger witch snapped playfully, descending upon the other girl's lips.

**~xxx~**

The following days were incredibly strange for Hermione, though she imagined it was worse for Harry, who left the Hospital Wing after a day of recuperation. Classes continued as normal – Defence Against the Dark Arts aside – and for Hermione and Ron, they still had exams to contend with. For once, even Gryffindor's resident walking encyclopaedia had taken to sitting at the back of lessons, mostly ignoring the Professors' words. Much the same as her inability to grasp everyone's blasé attitude towards the danger of the Triwizard Tournament, she couldn't comprehend how every other student was simply able to get on with their work. Even if they hadn't heard Harry mention Voldemort's return on the night of the Third Task, a student had _died_. Cedric Diggory was gone, and most people were behaving as though nothing had happened. Though try as she might, Hermione couldn't blame them. She was never one to hide her views on things, but for plenty of people, not talking about it was probably the easiest way to cope with what had transpired.

Neither Harry nor Ron talked much about the subject that was obviously on all their minds; Voldemort. She assumed that like herself, they had decided it was pointless speculating when they had no information to go on. It was an odd feeling; they still talked, but only about decidedly mundane matters. The same was true of Fleur, who hadn't left Hermione's side since she had left the Hospital Wing, going as far to sit in on Hermione's classes, and always waited outside the doors to the Hall during her exams. Had she witnessed this as a third party, Hermione would have probably laughed at this; but as it was, she was grateful for the company, and had to admit that she herself wasn't quite sure if she was ready to be without her girlfriend. Each other's presence seemed to keep them calm, and that would have to do for now.

Inevitably, the fact that they would soon be parted became more and more apparent. The evening before they were due to leave, the couple were sat opposite the fireplace in the Gryffindor Common Room, their heads resting against each other's.

"What 'appens tomorrow?" Fleur asked quietly, gazing into the crackling flames with a somewhat forlorn expression. Hermione sighed, and shook her head.

"Nothing, I hope," she said. She shifted and glanced at the blonde. "Nothing is going to change tomorrow, Fleur."

"Except for ze fact zat we will not be able to see each oz'er," the part-Veela replied. "And will be separated by 'undreds of miles."

"It doesn't matter," Hermione stated defiantly. "Well…it does…of course it matters. But what I mean is that it doesn't change anything between us. I'm not going to forget about you as soon as I can't see you."

"I know," Fleur replied, managing a smile. "We 'ave 'ad so many talks about zis; I zink I finally get ze message."

"Good," the brunette returned the smile. "What are you going to do? When you get back, I mean." Fleur was silent for a moment, tilting her head to the side as she thought.

"First, I must finish my exams, of course," she said, which earned an approving nod from Hermione. "Zen…I am not sure…" Then she gave a sly smile, and looked at the other girl. "Per'aps I will get a job-" She leant closer. "-_'ere. _Zen distance would not be so much of a problem, oui?"

"Fleur, you…" Hermione stammered, somewhat dumbstruck. "You shouldn't take such a big decision just for my benefit."

"It is not just _your_ benefit," Fleur replied; she sounded almost offended. "I would not take such a decision lightly; 'owever, you 'ave z'ree more years 'ere, and I am free to do as I wish – it makes sense zat I accommodate you, not ze oz'er way around."

"I suppose…" the younger witch mused, looking back towards the fireplace. "I just…don't like people going out of their way to do something for me; it makes me feel as though I should be repaying them."

"And you will repay me," the blonde replied simply. "'Ermione, you being you, and staying wiz me, is all ze payment I need." She gave a wide smile. "Now are you going to accept it before I run out of all ze English clichés I know, hm?"

"Alright," Hermione said with a laugh, leaning closer to the other girl. "What sort of job were you thinking of?"

"Not sure," Fleur mused. "Somez'ing in London, I zink. I could not 'andle ze cold weaz'er zis far north."

"Oh, so you're not willing to accommodate me _that _much!" the brunette replied, laughing again and giving Fleur a playful shove.

After that, their conversation turned to happier topics. Fleur again reiterated her parents offer of Hermione visiting during the Summer, and the brunette promised it would be the first thing she told her parents when she got home. Though as Fleur continued to talk, Hermione couldn't help be think more of her parents; just how much did she tell them? Did she tell them the person she wanted to stay with was also her girlfriend? Did she tell them about Voldemort's return? Fleur seemed to notice she was distracted, and stopped what she had been saying.

"'Ermione?" Hearing her name jumped the bushy-haired girl from her thoughts. She blinked for a moment.

"Oh, sorry," she said. "I was just thinking…"

"About…?"

"My parents," Hermione admitted. "I…they have no idea… About us, I mean." She paused for a moment. "I wanted to tell them in my messages, but it's not the sort of thing you can just put in a letter, is it?"

"I am ze wrong person to ask, 'Ermione," Fleur replied. "My parents always made it clear to me zat ze gender of my partner does not matter." She frowned. "You zink it would boz'er your parents?"

"Well…" Hermione sighed. "No, I don't think it would. I think they would be more annoyed that I didn't tell them sooner. They're so kind about it, but I know they resent the fact that they're outsiders to the wizarding world. I only get to see them for about two months every year; only slightly more if I go home for Christmas. I suppose they feel…left out? Not only do they barely see me, but when I do come home, I'm talking about all these things they don't understand…"

"'Ermione, I…" Fleur began, looking rather uncomfortable. "I cannot begin to put myself in your position, but…" She placed a hand upon the other girl's shoulder. "Ze parents zat brought up someone as good as you…could never blame you for what you are…"

"Are we talking about my being a witch, or…" Hermione began, before looking away. She chuckled to herself. "Well…I suppose I am…aren't I…?"

"Pardon?" Fleur looked lost.

"Well, the only person I am attracted to is you," the brunette began. "And you're a girl, so I suppose that makes me…"

"Une lesbienne," Fleur finished for her, tilting her head to the side again. Hermione laughed and nodded.

"Why does everything sound more romantic in French?" she mused, and Fleur chuckled.

"You only say zat because you love 'ow I say your name," the blonde teased, leaning closer and rubbing her nose against the other girl's.

"I never said that I did," Hermione replied, smirking. At this, Fleur pulled away and scowled.

"Well in that case," she began, and Hermione raised an eyebrow at her girlfriend's voice. "Perhaps you would prefer me to talk like this, _Hermione?"_

"You…you _can_ say it properly!" the brunette snapped, looking at the other girl as though she had just sprouted an extra head. "Since when have you been able to put on a British accent?"

"It is not ze sort of zing you sit down and learn," Fleur replied, shrugging. "It is no different to you faking a French accent, non?"

"I suppose…" Hermione said, still slightly surprised.

"But…" Fleur began delicately, leaning closer again. "Per'aps I should just continue talking like zis, oui?"

"Mmmm…" the brunette murmured in agreement, and snuggled closer to the other girl, closing her eyes. "And for the record…" She brought a hand up and cupped Fleur's cheek. "…I love the way you say my name…"

**~xxx~**

"The end," Professor Dumbledore said. "Of another year."

Hermione had been dreading the End of Term Feast, as she imagined Harry had been too. The black drapes hanging in the place of the usual winning house's colours were a stark reminder of recent events. Despite the fact that this was the final school gathering of the year, Fleur had been given permission to sit at the Gryffindor table. In fact it had been Harry that had asked; noticing that Hermione couldn't quite bring herself to approach Professor McGonagall to enquire.

"There is much that I would like to say to you all tonight," Dumbledore continued. "Today we acknowledge…a really terrible loss…the loss of a very fine person, who should be sitting here-" He nodded at the Hufflepuff table, the occupants of which looked even more stony-faced than the rest of the students. "-enjoying our Feast with us. I would like you all, please, to stand, and raise your glasses, to Cedric Diggory."

Hermione noted Fleur had picked up her goblet with her left hand, and found her own grasped tightly in the blonde's right, as they stood. "Cedric Diggory," they echoed.

"Cedric Diggory was, as you all know, exceptionally hard-working, infinitely fair-minded," Dumbledore went on. "And most importantly, a fierce, fierce friend." Several students nodded in agreement at his words. Unable to help herself, Hermione glanced over to the Ravenclaw table. A short distance from Gabrielle, Cho Chang was sat, tears streaming silently down her face.

"Now, I think, therefore, you have the right to know exactly how he died. You see…" Dumbledore paused, and for the first time his voice seemed to show a sign of his true sadness. "Cedric Diggory was murdered, by Lord Voldemort." There was a momentary ripple of whispering, but whether it was due to shock, or an attempt to hear what was said next, it did not last long. "The Ministry of Magic does not wish me to tell you this. It is possible that some of your parents will be horrified that I have done so; either because they will not believe that Lord Voldemort has returned, or because they think I should not tell you so, young as you are. It is my belief, however, that the truth is generally favourable to lies, and that any attempt to pretend that Cedric died as the result of an accident, or some sort of blunder of his own, is an insult to his memory."

"Now, the pain…that we all feel at this dreadful loss, reminds me – and reminds us – that while we may come from different places and speak in different tongues, our hearts beat as one." At these words, Hermione tightened her hold on Fleur's hand, gripping it as firmly as she could. The blonde looked down at her, and forced a small smile.

"In light of recent events, the bonds of friendship we've made this year will be more important than ever," Dumbledore continued. "Whether it be an amiable smile, true companionship, or even love in it's deepest form." Hermione swallowed uncomfortably, knowing full-well who Dumbledore was referring to. A few people glanced at her and Fleur, but most kept their eyes fixed on the Headmaster. "We are only as strong as we are united, as weak as we are divided. Remember that, and Cedric Diggory will not have died in vain. You _remember _that. And we'll celebrate a boy who was…kind and honest, and brave and true, right to the very end."

**~xxx~**

The next morning, the weather was deceptively serene. Golden light flooded the grounds, and the sky was almost entirely devoid of clouds. The Entrance Courtyard was filled with students, waiting for the carriages to take them down to Hogsmeade Station. Harry, Ron and Hermione were sat in silence, simply watching the flurry of activity around them. It seems almost perverse that in the wake of such dark events, they were treated to such a beautiful day. There was an added sting for Hermione, knowing that today would be the hardest goodbye she had ever given.

"Wonder how the Durmstrang students are getting back," Ron mused, his chin still resting upon his palm. "D'you reckon they can steer that ship without Karkaroff?" The Durmstrang Highmaster still hadn't been seen since his disappearance during the Third Task, and Harry had recounted Voldemort's branding of him as a coward; it didn't bode well for the man.

"Karkaroff did not steer," Krum answered from behind him. The redheaded boy looked startled to hear Krum talking to him, especially given their last contact had been under awkward circumstances. "He stayed in his cabin and let us do the vork." He gave a slight smile. "Seasickness."

"How are you, Viktor?" Hermione asked, returning his smile. He had looked pretty shaken during the Feast the previous night.

"I vill be fine," he said, nodding politely. "I hope ve vill all see each other again." He made to turn away, but paused. "Oh, Mr Veasley." Ron let out what could only be described as a squeak. "I haff been told you are a Quidditch fan." Hermione had to hide her smile; she already knew what Viktor had planned.

"Well…uh…yeah, s'pose," Ron replied, obviously trying to maintain his composure. Krum nodded again, and called out to a nearby group of Third Years.

"Mr Creevey!"

From the group of students, a very excited looking Colin Creevey emerged, looking thrilled to be addressed by Viktor Krum and carrying what could only be assumed to be a magical camera; it was covered in elaborate gold detailing and was emitting faint puffs of purple smoke. "Yes, Mr Krum?" Instead of answering, Krum turned back to Ron.

"Mr Veasley, vould you like a picture?" As Ron very sheepishly stood beside Krum for the photograph, Harry grinned at Hermione.

"Was this your idea?" he asked, and his friend just gave a coy smile.

"Might have been."

A few minutes later, Ron was clutching his signed picture, from which his own photographic self was waving back rather shyly. They watched Krum and the other Durmstrang students heading down towards the lake and their ship, before returning to the comfortable silence they had enjoyed before. Hermione was just about to double-check Crookshanks was happy in his cage, when there was an excited clustering of students around the doors to the castle. They looked up, and saw the Beauxbatons girls, in two neat lines, filing out into the courtyard. Hermione felt her stomach flutter for a moment; this was it. However, as the girls went by, only Gabrielle was visible, walking beside Madame Maxime.

But before she could even question Fleur's absence, a pair of arms encircled her waist from behind, and a chin rested upon her shoulder.

"So, zis is it, ma cheri," the blonde said. It was quite clear her cheerful tone wasn't quite genuine. Hermione turned within Fleur's arms, and was about to return her embrace, but was stopped. "Non, not 'ere," she said. "Follow me." She took the brunette's hand and led her to one side, into the covered area that surrounded the courtyard. Harry and Ron watched curiously as they went, as did Ginny and a few other onlookers nearby; clearly Fleur wasn't trying to get out of sight, just out of earshot.

"What is it?" Hermione asked, but Fleur shook her head.

"Just wanted a little privacy," the blonde said, glancing away for a moment. She seemed almost unwilling to look Hermione in the eye; perhaps, like Hermione, she didn't want to believe that they had to go their separate ways. Fleur looked her usual stunning self; hair back up in it's ponytail, uniform crease-free, and her posture elegant. Only her eyes seemed to betray her feelings. "'Ermione, I…I do not know what to say," she admitted. "I feel like I should 'ave some sort of speech prepared or somez'ing…"

"Fleur, don't be silly," the brunette said, giving her an encouraging smile. "You don't need to give me a fairy-tale farewell."

"Non, but…" Fleur sighed. She seemed to be having difficulty finding the right words. "'Ermione, we 'ave 'ad so many talks about our relationship zat I need not recount 'ow much you mean to me." She swallowed, and stepped forward. Again, she placed her arms around the younger witch's waist, pulling her closer. "Just know zat I love you, 'Ermione."

"I love you too," Hermione replied, without question. Fleur finally smiled, and nodded.

"As you should," she said. Ignoring Hermione's quirked eyebrow, she frowned curiously, and raised a hand up, placing it flat against Hermione's collar-bone.

"What?"

"Ze necklace I gave you for Christmas…" Fleur mused, pressing gently against Hermione's uniform, and the pendant beneath it. "You still wear it…"

"I haven't taken it off," the brunette said, her cheeks turning rather rosy. "It's like having part of you with me…" She paused. That had sounded horrible to her ears. "Sorry, that was a bit over the top, wasn't it?"

"Per'aps," the taller girl replied. "But you should know by now zat I am raz'er partial to romance, even if it is a bit 'over ze top.'"

Hermione chuckled, and nodded. She wrapped her arms around the other girl and pulled her into a gentle hug. "Despite everything, I think this is the best year I've ever had at Hogwarts…"

"'Ow are you going to survive wiz'out me?" Fleur teased, pressing her nose into Hermione's bushy hair.

"Maybe I'll take a note out of one of those old romance novels," she said. "I'll close my eyes, and think of you…"

"Just remember zat ze real me will be waiting for you, no matter 'ow long we are parted," the blonde replied, tightening her hold somewhat. "No matter 'ow long I have to wait, I will never want anyz'ing more zan to be wiz you."

Hermione nodded, and as she had predicted, her eyes began to fill with tears. "Oh Fleur…" she whispered, pulling her head back to look the other girl in the face. "Whatever happens, I'm glad your sister ran into me that day."

"So long ago…" Fleur murmured, nodding in agreement. "And I still feel as zough we 'ave not spent nearly enough time wiz each oz'er as we should 'ave."

"One day," Hermione said firmly, fighting to maintain her composure, knowing how many people were probably watching. "One day, it'll just be you and me, for the rest of our lives."

"Zat is a very big promise to make…" the part-Veela said, an eyebrow raised. "But…if I trust anyone to keep zeir promises, it is you, 'Ermione."

"Fleur!" a voice called from across the courtyard, and the blonde looked up. "C'est le temps pour aller!" Fleur looked back at Hermione, who by now was trying her hardest not to break down. She wanted to throw herself at Fleur; to grab her and never let go. The closer it came to their parting, the more final it felt as though it would be. She knew it wasn't; knew she was being foolish, but she couldn't help it.

"I 'ave to go…" Fleur said, and now it was she whose voice was cracking. Her normally calm face began to crumple as she bit back her own tears. "Oh 'Ermione…my 'Ermione…" With that, she grabbed the younger witch, and pulled her into a searing kiss. Hermione returned it with as much vigour as she could, not caring one iota about the eyes fixed upon them. The brunette could feel Fleur's tears against her face, and continued the kiss for as long as she could, pouring everything she felt for this amazing girl into it; everything she was unable to put into words.

As they parted, both let out shaky breaths. As had become a custom for them, they rested their foreheads together. "Before…before you go," Hermione began. "I need to give you something…" She reached into the pocket of her robes, and pulled out a folded piece of parchment. Fleur took it, and curiously unfolded it. "It's all my contact details," the brunette explained, rather hurriedly. "Everything; address, postcode, phone numbers…I know most of that is useless to you, but…" She looked downwards, her cheeks burning again. "…I wanted to be thorough…"

"I would not expect anyz'ing else from my 'Ermione," the part-Veela replied with a smile, neatly folding the parchment and placing it in her own pocket. "You will 'ear from me before you know it." She took a deep breath, and closed her eyes for a moment. "Well zen…I suppose zis really is it…"

"Yeah…" Hermione looked back up, staring into the eyes of the person she loved more than any other, bracing herself for the words she had to say. "Au revoir, Fleur."

"Non, zis is not goodbye," the blonde said, shaking her head. She brought a hand up, and gently stroked a finger down Hermione's cheek. "_À bientôt_, mon amour."

"Alright…" the younger girl replied, nodding. She understood perfectly. "_See you soon_, Fleur."

The blonde nodded. She looked as though she wanted to lean in for another kiss, but they both knew they would never be able to stop if she did. Instead, she raised two of her slender fingers, kissed the ends of them, and then placed them against the other girl's lips. Hermione savoured that last bit of contact, but just as Fleur withdrew her hand, she heard a noise.

Someone was clapping.

She looked back into the main area of the Entrance Courtyard, and saw both Harry and Ron. They were applauding. Quickly, Ginny joined in, then the Patil twins, then Neville. Fred and George joined in and even added a cheer to the noise. Hermione couldn't believe what she was seeing. She looked back at Fleur, who gave her that same warm smile that never failed to send her heart fluttering. And then, finally, the blonde began walking. She headed across the courtyard, past their applauding friends, past the fountain, and then eventually, out of view. The last thing Hermione saw was a sheet of silvery blonde hair, dancing in the sunlight.

Before Hermione really stopped to take note of what was happening, they were settling into a compartment on the Hogwarts Express. She kept replaying those final moments in her head; the kiss, the final show of acceptance from her friends, Fleur's hair billowing in the breeze as she left. As the train lurched into life, and began to take them on their way, Ron leant back in his seat.

"Well, I'm glad all that's over…" he said, closing his eyes and settling. Harry raised an eyebrow, and turned to Hermione. She returned his slight smile, and nodded. Despite Ron's words, this was far from an ending.

In more ways than one, it was only the beginning.

**~The End~**


	21. A Note from the Author

Well, there we are. Entwined, my first full-length Harry Potter fanfic, is finished. I've started so many fics over the years, and to finally have one completed feels like a long over-due accomplishment.

Originally, I was going to write a Fleur/Hermione story set during Deathly Hallows. In fact, I planned it out during my second viewing of the movie. When I came to write it, I started to consider what sort of backstory I would give: would they get together during the final book, or would they have been together beforehand? And so that got me thinking – why not show it? Fleur/Hermione fics set during the trio's Fourth Year are nothing new, and I hope mine holds up well beside some of the greats that already exist.

I aimed for a blend of the books and movies, borrowing dialogue and plot points from both, while always maintaining a new perspective, even on scenes that were mostly unchanged. That said, I tried my best to focus on those scenes that would indeed be altered by the presence of a relationship between Hermione and Fleur. Was my approach perfect? Far from it. But on the other hand, I am still proud of what I managed to get done.

So, you're all wondering, what happens now? Well that's simple – the story continues. In fact, the sequel picks up the story on the very same day Entwined ends. There will be no shift in tone, style, or intent. As far as you are concerned, it should feel as though you are reading the very same story. Why separate it at all? Well, as I already mentioned, the 'Fleur/Hermione Fourth year' has become something of a recognised sub-genre of the pairing, and I'm keen to keep the fic existing as just that.

But rest assured that the sequel will continue the same approach of this fic, and I hope to see all of you on the other side.

In fact, the sequel is well underway and is online **now.** It's title – **Entangled.**

That fic will encompass Books 5 and 6. After that, a third fic will cover Deathly Hallows – and that is the part where I'm completely throwing canon out of the window. But it's because of the changes I'm making to Deathly Hallows that I've kept Entwined – and will keep Entangled – so close to the canon events. If I go messing with the plot too much now, the changes I'm making to the final book's plot will lose a lot of their impact.

So anyway, don't forget – **Entangled – the sequel to Entwined** – is now online and waiting for you, and I hope you'll all stay with me as I continue to tell the adventures of our two lovely leading ladies.

Thanks for reading.

Alex.


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